Tag Archives: sadness

Web of sadness, Anchor’s away, & the unfolding of things.

i try to respect the privacy of people.

Even my own – but it’s a strange line, especially when there’s this mix of shyness coupled with a curious desire to simple say what’s so

Check out the awesome socks!

Hand knit by my Elder’s eldest daughter.  
My Elder, my Anchor is away

He’s been away at times – and his body is wrestling with brain cancer.

A brilliant man, an honored Physicist.

He gave me his blessings to write about it on the blog

But I haven’t, really.

I feel sensitive to how it will land, what I’ll likely forget to say, or what I’ll write & how that will land

Here’s his ancient puppy, Bentley

I love them both

My elder & his dog

And this family has been my anchor for the past 6 years of my seemingly-ever-shifting life

He’s still Here, but I miss him when he’s away.

My mind knows

The nature of coming & going

Not unlike the inhale & exhale

But this knowing doesn’t keep the heart from feeling a deep sadness

Connecting to a larger web of sadness as thoughts of Nepal, and boats filled with migrant people comes to (heart)mind…

Connecting that to my own family line who left their countries in an attempt & hope of escaping prejudice & violence not all that long ago.

The hummingbirds have returned

Two (well, four, really) Dear Friend’s will soon give birth to life anew

And life continues to unfold.


Heading out


Coming in

I know I need to find my own anchor within

It’s a challenge for me.

Guess it’s time for more walks in the woods.


late night ramble on farmish things, emotions-n-stuff, grumps about humans, & the joy of cats.

This past Sunday was the first harvest day at Nook & Cranny

Greens, greens, greens 

Spinach, lettuce mix, broccoli raab, arugula, & mustard greens

All from the three smaller hoop houses

(And eggs from the many hens)

While harvest went throughout the morning into the early afternoon, I seeded & transplanted in the greenhouse


Basil coming up nicely… 


It was a bit overcast & chilly outside, but cozy inside the greenhouse

Soon it will be too warm for me in there & so I’ll do the seeding outside

This was from the past Friday when it snowed a bit

The farm slowly is unfolding it’s shape as each new bed is tilled & planted

(I didn’t take many photos again, because there were 25 trays to seed, others to move, & 100 eggplant plants to be transplanted)

Say that three times fast:

…Eggplant plants to be transplanted…


(Thankfully this photo was NOT taken at the farm)

Sweet earthy groundhog looking for its breakfast this morning

I went across the road to where my garlic was planted to see if it was coming up… And it is!



Here’s the lovely nearby pond

(From the evening before)

Showing water’s amazing reflective capacity

I’ve been marveling at water lately.

It can be a mirror at times, clear at times, and obscuring at times.

And sometimes all at the same time! …depending on ones position relative to the body of water

(A vernal pond from last month after a freeze)

I was recently on a walk & passed a parent & child walking in the opposite direction

We were all passing a (thawed) vernal pond at the same time

I overheard the child say “ewwww that water is gross” & then the parent agreed with that sentiment…

I felt saddened by what had just transpired… In my view, it was a missed opportunity to open a narrow opinion

Vernal ponds are teeming with life… Frogs & peepers & insects…


But I guess I get sad easily.

I feel sad when great trees are cut down, even if they could pose a threat 

Critter activity!

I don’t know what was going on today in the world, but it seemed that many people were driving aggressively.

Ultimate example:

I was driving past an elementary school (where the limit drops from 45 to 35 during school hours) and a sporty sports car passed me, crossing a double yellow line.

OMG people…?!?!

What is all the hurry about?

Could we all try to slow down a little bit…?!?

Thank goodness for Izzy.

(Thank you Jenny, for the photo)

Nighty night all.

Dear Winter,

Dear Winter,


i know you are getting ready to go

i can see it in your light


can hear it in the morning bird song

the sticky, fat buds of the Horse Chestnut trees are a dead-giveaway.

i know a lot of humans are glad you’ll be going.


but i just wanted to let you know

that i really am glad you were here

and that i’ll miss you

and hope you’ll return again.


sure, i’m among those who get scared about driving while you are here

but that’s a price i’ll pay for your visit.

at no other time in the year do people slow down in the way they do while you’re here.


there’s a quiet you bring that i love & appreciate.

a beauty like no other time of year.


mysteries are revealed in your presence.


and omigosh tending the wood stove is one of my favorite things to do.



while there are many people talking about your leaving, and while you may or may not hear what they say

i just wanted to let you know that i love you

and appreciate you

no matter the intensity of your presence.


Spring – while with its own loveliness & beauty & gifts – is sometimes a hard time for me

and it’s because of you & your presence that makes it bearable.


so, thanks for coming, and for staying a while.

i’ll admit, i feel sad to say good-bye to you.

there are others like me, who love you, too.

but i don’t know if they wrote to you, so – just to let you know that you’ve got appreciators & admirers.


i’ll write in the coming months.

hope to see you again,



Sadfloods, happiness, & Aro’s moving day.

it’s interesting to reflect on a day throughout a day…

you never know how it will unfold

or how it’s going to end up.


one of the homes where i clean has a number of stuffed animals.


this is Zebra & Elephant

i arrange them in different ways when i’m there.

Zebra & Elephant are tight.

they are close friends.

when i look at Zebra & Elephant, i think of Aro, who moved this morning.

with her son & some other friends, yesterday, we packed up a moving truck with her belongings.

it was a beautiful day

and i was happy to be there

then just before bedtime


i felt sad

really sad

sometimes the sads come and they are like a flood of gremlins taking over the little house of my mind.

flinging open closed doors having any semblance of sadness conveniently tucked away…

(or as Rumi has said:  “violently sweeping your house, empty of its furniture”)


eventually i was able to fall asleep

but upon waking, & thinking of her leaving today

came another flood of sads.


(big breath)


this is from a recent day, before the snowfall – with Aro greeting me one afternoon from her now former little house.

it’s a strange thing…

to feel so happy for her

and then

a deep sadness.

it took a while for me to come out from the sadflood

and only did so through listening to a wonderful podcast of an interview with the late Irish poet & philosopher, John O’Donohue.


(i recommend the unedited version…)

and among other things, was reminded of the importance of beauty.


Aro has this amazing way with beauty

the way she lives her life

the way she creates a home around her

the things that her multi-skilled hands craft & create…

i don’t have any photo images to upload of her visual creations

(& all of the photos from the time we farmed together in 2009 are on Facebook, and i don’t know how to get them here…)

but here is a link to her Sound Cloud site


Aro called a little while ago

i was happy to hear from her… they are almost there.

i’m grateful for the cell phone tonight.

blessings on our good friends.