July 09, 2018




Yes, it's that time of year again... we are heeding the call of the great outdoors! You can leave us messages in the comments below (although we probably won't read them until we get back), or, even better...

Please consider sending us snailmail at camp! Most years we got a lot of mail and it is SO GREAT! Plus, I will of course happily send you a postcard in return. If you're reading this between July 9th and July 16th, here's your big chance to make our day at camp!
Send a little note (and/or dark chocolate!) to:
Riendeau-Krause campers, site 35-C
c/o North of Highland Campground
52 Head of the Meadow Road
P.O. Box 297
North Truro, MA 02652-0297

If that's too much trouble, you can also call the camp office and ask the very nice folks there to leave us a note on the camp message board, which is also a big thrill. That number (good from July 7th through the 19th or so) is 508/ 487-1191, and office hours are pretty much all day with the exception of meal breaks from noon-1pm and again from 6-7pm.



(The message board at camp on a good day)

Even if you don't have a chance to send a message our way, we know we can count on you to send warm and sunny thoughts... right? And a special thanks to the excellent neighbors who are keeping watch on our little house until we get back.


(I'll still be writing at least one haiku each day,
but won't be able to post them while we're gone.
Watch this space for "haiku-palooza" 
once we return!)

July 03, 2018

hot summer night —
talk of World Cup matches
mingles with fireflies


July 02, 2018

interstellar trip —
confidently coming back
to the Seven Sisters


July 01, 2018

unplanned good-byes —
I show our overnight firefly

gently to the door


June 30, 2018

last night of Pride month —
we stand under the street light
slowly kissing


June 29, 2018

swerving to avoid
the dead bird in the road —
turn the radio off, too


June 28, 2018

boys in the basement —
their happy laughter
bounding up the stairs


June 27, 2018

perfect timing —
a salted breeze announces
the long journey’s end


June 26, 2018

on this day we made
our rainbow flags into capes
and rode bikes to town


June 25, 2018

a bright flash of red
as the cardinal checks in
with his mate


June 24, 2018

roadside edge blur
resolving into a turtle’s 
intricate shell


June 23, 2018

don’t scold me, robin —
I have lost my way and am

feeling my way home


June 22, 2018

cooler nights —
we remember open windows
from our childhoods


June 21, 2018

June 20, 2018

drops so far apart
we question if they’re even rain —
closer, come closer


June 19, 2018

so many fireflies!
we stretch out our hands,
the stars within reach


June 18, 2018

a sudden chill
as the thunder rumbles in —
he calls the hospice


June 17, 2018

all the things we’ll do
to get the baby to smile —
summer sun


June 16, 2018

June 15, 2018

slowing my step
clamoring for their next meal
a nestful of beaks


June 14, 2018

June 13, 2018

strawberry season —
the juice of last year’s fruit
staining our baskets


June 12, 2018

unmistakeable
the look we give each other —
coming out again


June 11, 2018

the clearest night yet —
our dog sighs and circles
ignoring the stars


June 10, 2018

puddle-bathing wren
happy for all these choices —
I try to see it her way


June 09, 2018

deer at dusk
working their way through clover —
my father’s calendar


June 08, 2018

remembering
his “special rock” collection —
graduation eve


June 07, 2018

honeysuckle days —
clouds, then finally sun again
our long-entwined lives


June 06, 2018

the deer and I
trading start for startle — 
two hearts drumming


June 05, 2018

eyes remembering
what summer feels like —
a goldfinch! a firefly!


June 04, 2018

at last, the air changed,
became companionable —
the earth took a breath


June 03, 2018

hearing rain approach
as it beats down the peonies —
I call my father


June 02, 2018

not ready for flight —
a just-hatched bird reduced to
ants on the sidewalk


June 01, 2018

nesting geese
standing their ground although
I ask them to share


May 31, 2018

hours after the rain
irises still seeming drenched —
I reach back for you


May 30, 2018

first bird of the day
still sounding tentative —
sing with abandon!


May 29, 2018

stuck at the top
of the swimming pool steps —

early season chill


May 28, 2018

behind the clouds
a full moon we cannot see —
quiet anniversary


May 27, 2018

we return again
(rain-laden locust blossoms)
to the old stories


May 26, 2018

longer days —
he calls me outside to watch
his new skateboard tricks


May 25, 2018

birds at first light
unspooling their songs —
watching my girl sleep


May 24, 2018

surprised at bedtime
by the taste of my own salt —
first warm days


May 23, 2018

May 22, 2018

every bit of string
suddenly in her sights —
nesting oriole


May 21, 2018

mid-spring morning —
kitchen cupboards finally
empty of ants


May 20, 2018

Sunday school —
we stop to check the nest
for signs of hatching


May 18, 2018

May 17, 2018

May 16, 2018

through evening rain
birds call out across the field:
yes, still here, still here


May 15, 2018

we, too, bend lower
as rain has bowed the branches —
all this giving in


May 14, 2018

watching you frame
the picture I didn’t see —
peonies and mint


May 13, 2018

our nightly walk
slipped in between two downpours —
the moon, too


May 12, 2018

all the little street streams
go looking for each other —
brunch with my parents





May 11, 2018

late summer sky
stars talking amongst themselves —
we can almost hear


May 10, 2018

heat lightning
on the far side of town —
you walk towards me


May 09, 2018

May 08, 2018

May 07, 2018

this spring breeze
giving the clouds in the lake
a good stirring