A night of remnants.
Droughty, fallen trees rising in cinders; a waning sunset; and the laggard lightblooms of Perseids meteor shower the night after the peak.
Rodolfo in a firewhorl.
Sun so distant from the Upper Peninsula – glancing off Lake Huron.
My mom in a sun dog.
If I breathed on the glass pane of a steamy train running through a myrtle-colored Winterland, this is what I would see.
Round Island double exposed with Jean’s Meadow.
The sun set in a vacuum.
Amaru hunting for rocks harder than diamonds.
Sally & Mackinac Bridge.
The flush of morning sunrise and a small passion flower with a shy, white spider trundling to the underside of the blossom.
Round Island Lighthouse.
[Cloud] Hover Island takes a rest above Round Island.
Bogey chasing (& recovering) tossed stones.
What a perfect child.
I can not stress how insanely clear Lake Huron is. The closest depth is chest-deep.
The sky almost seamlessly fades into water. If only Sault Saint Marie inched away.
Jean’s Meadow harbors the most lovely perfume; the most intoxicating smell in the world.
The corncob weeds watching the sun set.
& a last endarkening.
Anne and I are in the process of moving to a house all our own, so our old house is all wood and startled cats, and the new is paint fumes and drop cloths, open drawers, teetering book stacks, bikes and chairs with missing cushions. Also one million inherited, beautiful, and terrified feral kittens in the yard. My new room is all brick, with a bricked up mantle, six windows, a glass door, and the most horrid, soft gray paint. I spent yesterday on the floor chipping away yielding paint, sometimes finding windows of exposed brick or tortured soil painted up into the wall. I painted one wall a foamy robin egg greenblue but it looks like the most awful sea green, glinting in every brick crevice. No amount of work could re-expose that brick, and I have no idea what color would actually look okay. I have a browny purple off-tint also – can you bring an existing color to a paint shop and have it darkened?
There was a tiny party last night for my birthday, and then a swarming mingle at Logan.
I also have my love home again and it is so, so nice to have him home to tell me what a manticore is, show me bioluminescent plankton in the dock shadows, and have potato-leek soup stewing for me when I get home from work. He dignifies everything I do, it seems, and even loves Tammy Wynette because I do. I have really committed myself to Raleigh now, so that’s a little overwhelming. Still, I can’t remember feeling more at home than I do now. And I missed the South more when I was in Ireland than I miss Ireland now. So much for moving back to Dublin / Chicago?