ten good things

 photo DSC_0128.jpg
01. waking up to cool air in the morning, and the last of september's summer sun
02. thinking about sally mann after the critique with bruce herman, and his gracious wisdom
03. getting to be a barista and making every latte an extra foamy one
04. biking to the french market on early saturday mornings
05. goat milk lattes with austin at heritage prairie
06. late nights in the ceramics studio
07. walking up blanchard lawn to get to class every day
08. banana coconut honey smoothies (the best combination yet)
09. bridgeport and new unexplored parts of chicago, and just the fact that i get to live near this city
10. father martin's voice when he leans over the altar rail and says, "the body of christ, given for you"

It is these things, and so many more, that I am needing to remember lately.

[from a house i'm intrigued by, down the road]




I believe that I shall look upon
the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
[psalm 27:13]

[pc: abelardo morell]


the bests of the summer

summer. (at Marsh Creek State Park/Lake) watching over me

thunderstorm breakfasts with em & tor // peonies // pie day // indian food in wicker park // the architecture exhibit at the art institute // sharon van etten at millennial park // beer and popcorn // the lilac parade // biking to all souls // lemonade for the first time // library time with dr. foster // wallace stegner // prayer on the green couch // mint pea soup // ELLIE // gardens with dr. brabanec // biking home in rain // no internet // father martin on prayer // milosz mondays // birchwood kitchen // georges bernanos // polenta and mushrooms // days of heaven // sunsets with mary at marshall park // just mary // sam's slippers // sylvi's kindness // arvo part // lots of damien jurado // attali and jens // the guide to filling our days // agnes martin // swimming in green lake with rebecca // bainbridge island alone // golden gardens // walking always // lavender lemonade // lavender everything // all the ferries // sea hair // jayne in seattle // ballard public library // canal walks with mr. wolfe // mark jarman // biking with aunt april // lake time // listening to records in fremont // earl gray ice cream // the loganberry festival // coffee with emily at le reve that morning // letters received // birthday picnic // sunday market // delancey // the locks (seven times) // chats with taylor // getting picked up from the memphis airport by the girls // stained-glass seals // andrew wyeth on my bed // andrew wyeth with mom // jan and lee // holding a chicken // gasworks park, both times // avocado toast // tired hands with derek // coming home after eight months

The boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places indeed, and gosh and golly it was such a good summer.


sometimes we proceed by prophecy

"Sometimes a child will stare out of a window
for a moment or an hour—deciphering
the future from a dusky summer sky.

Does he imagine that some wisp of cloud
reveals the signature of things to come?
Or that the world’s a book we learn to translate?

And sometimes a girl stands naked by a mirror
imagining beauty in a stranger's eyes
finding a place where fear leads to desire.

For what is prophecy but the first inkling
of what we ourselves must call into being?
The call need not be large. No voice in thunder.

It's not so much what's spoken as what's heard—
and recognized, of course. The gift is listening
and hearing what is only meant for you.

Life has its mysteries, annunciations,
and some must wear a crown of thorns. I found
my Via Dolorosa in your love.

And sometimes we proceed by prophecy,
or not at all—even if only to know
what destiny requires us to renounce.

O Lord of indirection and ellipses,
ignore our prayers. Deliver us from distraction.
Slow our heartbeat to a cricket's call.

In the green torpor of the afternoon,
bless us with ennui and quietude.
And grant us only what we fear, so that

Underneath the murmur of the wasp
we hear the dry grass bending in the wind
and the spider's silken whisper from its web."

Dana Gioia