Thursday, February 23, 2017

little miracle

last December when I was making my last minute dash to escape the ghetto in 18 degree weather and snow I decided to dig up part of my winter flowering jasmine which was just a dry vine and tossed it in a plastic pot with a slim hope that it might survive here I put it on the deck by my bedroom and this is what I found this morning






















after that discovery I hopped in my car to force myself to leave my house and I drove to La Conner where I found these noisy snow geese and a most excellent cloud show on Fir Island











this however is how most of my life feels




















Sheila my llama has a new horse a young black stallion with a white blaze
the palomino that hangs out with the chocolate Shetland pony was rolling in the grass and I realized she was about to foal her belly huge and distended
I crossed two rivers today the Stillaguamish and the Skagit the snow geese were on the Skagit River and two huge hawks were perched on trees watching I saw a more normal sized hawk there too and one farmhouse had a mailbox painted like a small white church including the steeple
I saw a sturdy stout goat pushing his or her horns hard into a log
there was one hawk and a bald eagle hanging out on the Stillaguamish River bridge the bridge that takes me to my island
I also saw a giant iron elephant in the middle of a meadow

I had lunch in La Conner an amazing fresh winter vegetable sandwich with warm goat cheese on it and baby turnips and red and yellow roasted peppers and spinach but did not run into the composer thank bog yes he lives there no I am not looking for him

well maybe kind of I am





















I totally am

4 Comments:

Blogger Ms. Moon said...

And Tom Robbins, too, you know. He lives there.
Such beauty, Rebecca. Life.

February 24, 2017 at 5:30 AM  
Blogger 37paddington said...

I love this window on your world.

February 24, 2017 at 7:03 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Mary I met Tom Robbins once at the Blue Moon Tavern a place where writers hung out not only Tom but Roethke Richard Hugo Kesey Ginsberg even Dylan Thomas. It was and always has been a dive. Mostly Tom Robbins looked down my shirt. I met him again at his reading for Villa Incognito. He looked down my shirt again when I got my book signed. So it goes. The Pacific Northwest is full of writerly weirdness. Thank bog I'm normal. Bwahahahaha!

February 24, 2017 at 8:17 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Dearest R, this means so much to me. I write out my world and when I read what I wrote it seems so pedestrian. I wish I were a photographer so I could capture the deep beauty of this place though. It knocks me out every single day. xxoo

February 24, 2017 at 8:20 AM  

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