Monthly Archives: June 2013

50 Shades of Green

30 Sunday Jun 2013

Posted by in writingdownthestory in Essay

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New post on Daughter on Duty.

“I went walking up the hill one recent morning—part of my resolve to get more exercise, which I have not repeated to date—and was entranced by all the shades of green in the vegetation. The almost black noble fir rises next to the summer green Douglas fir, and the lighter shades of each on the new-growth tips unpredictably undulate in the breeze. Deciduous trees in various stages of seasonal green cover the landscape, and grey-green ghost trees fade into the fog. …” See more.

One Year: A retrospective

24 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by in writingdownthestory in Blog

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New post on Daughter on Duty.

“One year ago today my house was sold, my belongings were in storage on the other side of the country, and my 1998 Honda CRV was tuned up and packed for travel. I wrapped up my job of eleven years, blessed my friend who shared her home with me for three weeks, said goodbye to dear friends and co-workers and favorite places, put my twelve-year-old diabetic cat in the tricked-out dog crate behind the front seats of CuRVy and pulled out of Raleigh on a brilliant Sunday morning. …” see more

Evening Sentence

15 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by in writingdownthestory in Photography

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June 15, 2013 on the same day

I suppose I should finish
the morning story
though I wish to God
I didn’t have more
to tell; that
the sad-eyed doe who
rested in my garden
not knowing
as the sun slanted
through the trees
that it was her last
sunrise
was seen later
in the field up the drive
a gaping wound
in her haunch;
unable to reach
wildlife control
the neighbor did
what had to be done.

Morning Sentence

15 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by in writingdownthestory in Morning Sentences

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June 15, 2013

I was only going out
to get closer to the slanting
sunbeams streaming through
fog in the trees,
one of those mornings
that makes the gray
worth it all,
when she looks up startled
from her resting place in the garden
why doesn’t she get up
her doe eyes reflect
my heart-clenching
fear of injury and visions
of animal control
and violence
I can’t do this
I can’t do this
I can’t do this,
she leaves when
I stop looking at her.