thunder (and)

lightning strikes: random, infinite, impossible. the determined and the delicate stand side by side, their fate equally tempted. some things simply are, simply must be - and a detour is of no consequence, since it leads from the danger of the open expanses to the shelter of the very tree waving its perfect boughs at destiny.

if of thy mortal goods...

my delightful friend pauline, who lives in henley near ipswich, loves flowers. so, when I wanted to show my appreciation for her unbounded hospitality, i snuck off during a visit to tesco’s, or sainsbury’s, or safeway, or wherever, and purchased a bunch of tulips – how fitting! – to grace her home. the selection was lamentable, and the bouquet i ended up buying was extremely meager and extremely makeshift, and cost more than five pounds. i was chagrined. we are spoiled in holland. for much less we can feed our souls with flowers like these:

minor works of art, creative, colourful, bound by twine and tender hands….

black, white, redeeming

light trickles through the window. on the table before him are piles of photographs: their life together captured in image upon image. he shuffles them, shifts them; he cannot resign himself to not remembering. he stacks the black and white, the sepia; the pinked edges dimple his determined fingers.
she had always been a presence, his wife; he a still savourer of the energy she created and the moments she made. as he arranges the snapshots – by year, by milestone, by son – her imagined narrative, almost audible, lifts the loneliness.
fifty years of recollected contentment, gathered lovingly on the tablecloth, nudge him forward on this reluctant and solitary path.
he is managing.
but he still wishes he had gone first.

slipping the restraints

as andy warhol once acknowledged:
"art is what you get away with"...

strewn

we are scattered around the globe: one in southeast asia backpacking from harbour to hamlet, the oldest and i at home in wintery holland, and the youngest in canada, hugging lake ontario and taking beautiful pictures:

thank heavens for the internet and instant interaction. the world, shared, becomes intimate.

eggs & inspiration

last month, the yearly office breakfast: an early-morning banquet for a hundred sleepy souls. and, as welcome as the coffee was, and as delicious as the rolls, the cheeses, the bacon, the eggs and the waffles all were, it was the location..

...that captivated, satisfying souls as well as appetites.

chill factor

if this icy cold were just a fraction less, we could all lose a few layers of bundling. and if the wind would just lie a little low, we could all appreciate the clear skies and the crispness.

just deserts

after tossing and turning and dreaming of dreams, after shivering on the edge of an icy railway platform, after biting back all manner of expletives when the fast train adjusted its pace to the slow train that beat it to the junction, i was rewarded by a spectacular sunrise over the ij.

blue times two

even the tackiest of tourist-trappings take on a certain dubious charm under the blue skies of a glorious amsterdam day.

welcome

we are patient souls. we plod, when necessary. the construction work has produced visible, and visitable, results. the words and images have been manoeuvred into place.
we are delighted muses.