finding our ways back

to the corners we have claimed —

this spider and I

out of all the clouds

my eye keeps coming back

to this one

end of the season —

we cut and dry lavender,

protecting something

What does the moth

hope for as it beats and beats

against the glass?

planning our route home

around the best view

of that field we love

threading my needle

to sew constellations —

sequins for stars


(for my friend Wendy Cook, inspired by this post)

Lessons From Camp 2013

When we tell people that our annual vacation tradition consists of two weeks of camping in the duneside scrub pine forests of Cape Cod, they sometimes have a difficult time imagining how truly decadent that ends up feeling. 

So here, once again, is our post-camp photo journal, along with some related lessons we learned (or, in some cases, re-learned) at camp this year. (Clicking on pictures will give you access to a larger version of the same image.) It certainly felt luxurious to us!

Live it up!

(Just because you're roughing it,

doesn't mean you can't splurge.)

No hands. Definitely.

Design your own golf course.

Bring a friend.

Rain brings new opportunities.

Honor your traditions.

Use your imagination.

(There wasn't any rope, but most cars slowed.)

Look up.

Look down.

Change your perspective.

Find great teachers.

Ride the waves all the way in.

Bring books, and a head lamp.

(Thanks so much to our camping partners Sassafras Mama + JT, 

and our camping neighbors Kathia, Marc, + Kosma,

as well as to Aunt Chelle, Mickie, Grammy + Grampy, Grandpa + Nana, 

Ryan Garcia, Steve Erickson, the Pattons, the Rawleys,

Lorraine, Mike, Ray, Deborah,

and everyone else who conspired to make

our time at camp especially wonderful this year.

More great pics are available over at Sassafras Mama

(in this post and in this one!)

and if you have the time, treat yourself to a look 

at how these boys have GROWN

by checking out the posts 

from 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, and 2006.)

a doe and her fawns

walk to the cemetery

in search of flowers

a small toad

hopping through the dappled sun

gently, gently

beyond black trees

clouds in the night sky

backlit by the moon

beyond black trees

clouds in the night sky

backlit by the moon

staying up to talk —

for you, too, the moon

not yet full

crisp blue sky

banal and invincible

until the storm comes

the hottest day yet —

I sit still to feel my sweat

sliding down my back

when the breeze comes

we turn wordlessly

to face it

like rain

but lacking rain’s steadiness —

pine needles, falling

“We found water!”

All the boys digging holes

at the beach

a dream so sweet

I wake to find myself

wanting a bookmark

at bedtime

from all of our pockets

whispers of sand

heard but not seen

the busy whirr and squeak

of a hummingbird

each brittle branch

apt to snap under weight —

a dead pine, still here

these nights when the wind

carries inland

the roar of the waves

quick glances

after too-close thunder —

checking for wholeness

a near-white sky —

all day, the only shadows

from birds and trees

You should be afraid,

we tell the young squirrel

who has strayed so close

shreds of fog

drift through our day

leaving damp behind

trying to hold back

the sun with their singing —

birds at dusk

haiku pencil —

eraser worn down

before the point