Been awhile since I’ve been here. I do so hope you and those in your circles, near and far, are doing well. ❤️
My family and I have been busy settling into our new, upstate New York, home built in 1930. I often think about the families who’ve passed through a place built during the Great Depression. They survived. I believe we will too. Peace, kindness, and love are out there in the world…
With peace and love for the holidays🌟
I painted this gal in 2016, seems so much farther back…
Ah, the first Mother’s Day without Millie, ’tis joyful and sad.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you amazing mothers out there!❤️
Little T grew up at my husband’s nursery. Her coop was decimated this Wednesday. Her unique personality will be forever treasured. She reminded us all how far a little happiness can go.
I must admit, I’ve been a meat-eater in the past. Over the last few years, I’ve stopped eating red meat, but have dined on poultry. Writing this piece has inspired me to finalize the vegetarian push. My son turned vegetarian two years ago, he’s a fabulous role model.
I hope you’re all managing each day okay.
While many of us are staying ‘between’ our own walls during this difficult and strange time, we can do our part by sending good karma into the world. Doing our individual best to manage, stay as positive as possible, paint a smile on the mask, and share, share, share. Do not hoard, do not keep beautiful and remarkable works to yourselves. Uplift communities. Uplift souls.
I’d like to start sharing here by posting a link to some gorgeous and remarkable words by my dear friend, DS Levy. If you’re unfamiliar with her work, become familiar. DS Levy’s stories dig into bone while playing on your skin. Click highlighted text or the image below, and check out her exceptional work available on Amazon!
On a personal note, DS is one of the most forthright people I know, in life and in her work. Deb enlightened me about the writing submission process years ago. Through her selfless support and unyielding belief in my words and art, I began submitting work in 2017. Without her dogmatic persistence, excellent editing skills, and friendship—I’d still be writing in my room and reading work to my dachshund.
If you have a book out there, I’d be more than happy to share your work on this blog. Just email me at firstname.lastname@example.org with the link. (Please don’t send work that includes any gratuitous violence, pornography…you get the idea)
And please, do continue to stay safe. I hope all your loved ones and friends are managing.❤️
Click highlighted text here to visit DS Levy’s site and read more of her amazing published works!
May the flames of JOY burn brightly in your heart this holiday season❤️
Holidragon soars every Christmas😊
enjoy this thoughtful day (I’m going to pretend back in 1913 Hallmark didn’t see the commercial opportunity that this historical day presented 😘)
thanks to people’s generosity, max’s friend has a round trip ticket for the holidays
top left (Christmas 2017, max’s beautiful sister Caroline holding Mojo the wiener dog and to the right – max)
bottom right (max’s 2017 high school graduation snap)
Happy Mother’s Day to all you wondrous moms!
butterfly lenses, in the The Paragon Journal – a thoughtful, artful, and lovely publication
Boil it down to edge of the pot and residue remains where they died. I once believed all crabs were all born red until I saw my first Jersey blues. Cobalt and beautiful. What a thrill, lowering twine anchored to raw chicken necks. I didn’t know when these chickens lost their necks. Didn’t see them die. There are birds born to be dead then peppered for mouths with breadcrumbs and butter.
Of those blue beauties, I thought we discovered something profoundly
remarkable like the first dead cicada I’d assumed was a prehistoric fly.
Childhood eyes of marbles and butterfly lenses. The pot heavy with water, sparkling like the ocean, clatters onto the stove looking less bright in the sandy evening. That day the beach was too hot. We’d almost drowned in the powerful riptide, but didn’t. Saved by a rope that resembled the very same cord we pulled the blue beauties up from their ocean floor homes–hemp their chains and our salvation.
Into the pot
I hear screams of angry bleeding in the cottage kitchen with its lighthouse curtains fluttering in the salty breeze. My stomach lurches. Blue, red, all colors boiling together.
Sickness and seasoning
As your blue shells grow fire red, purple specks melting off indigo thumbprints vanish as if you never had life. Bright engine red wailing silenced for a sharpened knife.
This is the day I learn all crabs are not born red.
This was the day I learned when to break my butterfly lenses.
this poem is based on a true childhood experience.
the first time I ever saw live crabs boiled I was with a friend’s family down the shore.
I was shocked when the crabs we were fishin’ out of the ocean were not bright red
this was the first and only time in my life I ever became homesick
“my mom and dad would never boil live creatures,” is what was running through my eleven-year-old mind
(cover and image belongs to Paragon Journal – I added cover blurb for WP image)
This is a photo of my lovely sister, Dolores. If it weren’t for her beautiful blue eyes watching over me growing up, I would’ve gotten into loads more trouble. I was quite the wiseass all the way into my 20’s. We had a lot of laughs together. I miss her dearly and wished she lived closer. 😘