I Wish, I Wish, I Wish I Were A Fish?

On the water, at least; if not in the water.  Looking at the fish as I glide above them.  Frankly, going swimming or diving would be great too.

I am definitely missing paddling the new board.  I had just managed to shift into that state of being in which working out is a real routine, a real need.

A selfish wish, to exercise outside, during this time of smoke and fire.

Still . . . .  

Photo by JP

Mendocino

As she filled my travel cup, the Mendocino waitress slipped and shifted through a double-handful of funky dance moves and then, after collecting my cash, closed the till with an eloquent twitch of her hips.  All for her own obvious delight in the music coming out of the speakers.  I wish I’d paid some attention to the tune.

Woad (II)

2011: Clay

I've always loved the play of water over clay.

Wish Upon a Wing

Today, while out buying fish in Berkeley, I was limping back to my truck (back & leg issues) when in front of me appeared a crow or raven also limping.

Was he making fun of me?  Showing sympathy?  Just a fellow creature with a hurt of his/her own?

Before I could ask, the black bird flew away.

I wish I had wings like that.

Hey Nineteen

Happy Nineteenth Birthday to Motley-girl.

(Kudos to Steely Dan for the title and a good song.)

Blow, West Wind, Blow

A bit of blarney for the season.

With Luck, Puck

Always a welcome sight.

A Fine Finish, Indeed

And if that photograph lacks a perfectly even, perfectly angled horizon, the boat was rather tippy.  Kiltered, as I like to say, in the best of ways.

Slant-rhymed.

The last day of the year.

Wishful Thinking?

An odd emblem there for a very tippy craft.

Charm: Fare Far, Fare Well

Pathway Charm: sculpture mix; jade green glaze, barely, for relief effect.  (The design is borrowed from an old Norse monument.  I have a metal ornament that I pressed into the clay.)  A blessing piece, as it were: Strength-in-Adversity.

"May you have a good voyage, where'er you fare, here and hereafter."

Anticipation

Hanging In The Rafters

. . . is no way to live life.

Get wet!

(Note to self.)

Rhymes With Orange II

I need to go free diving up north or down Monterey way.

Maybe next-next-next weekend, you know?

A Viking Holiday!

A belated Happy Solstice to you all!

As the days grow longer, may we all strive a bit more to fill our days--and each other's days--with action, reflection, and happiness.

--MD

Puck, Sleeping: What's the Shape of Your Soul?

Puck, Sleeping: sculpture mix; transparent brown, green, and denim glazing.

I know I have an inner fish, and I'll bet I have an inner Puck. What about you?

What's your trickster-raven-coyote-soul look like?

"A Visitor": A Poem By Mary Oliver

A VISITOR

My father, for example,

who was young once

and blue-eyed,

returns

on the darkest of nights

to the porch and knocks

wildly at the door,

and if I answer

I must be prepared

for his waxy face,

for his lower lip

swollen with bitterness.

And so, for a long time,

I did not answer,

but slept fitfully

between his hours of rapping.

But finally there came the night

when I rose out of my sheets

and stumbled down the hall.

The door fell open

and I knew I was saved

and could bear him,

pathetic and hollow,

with even the least of his dreams

frozen inside him,

and the meanness gone.

And I greeted him and asked him

into the house,

and lit the lamp,

and looked into his blank eyes

in which at last

I saw what a child must love,

I saw what love might have done

had we loved in time.

--Mary Oliver,

from her volume Dream Work