The first true cold seems to be settling in. Colder than cool, the thermometer reads 47. The long dry summer and extended fall warmth does things to us humans. Here in the Quonset the evidence: long Johns under my flannel robe, and a fleece blanket hung in the doorway to keep the cold draft from chilling off this curved room. This place is getting ma'u with the emphasis (or kahako) on the 'u.
Fog fills in the space between the top of the forest floor and the sky. Lono. Cool air descends. What warmth there is in the Earth's skin rises. Captured, there is the Ma'u ka leo o keia wahi, the earth here is damp. Right out of the pages of the Hawaiian Dictionary, that word ma'u picked me ... first thing up while my eyes were still filled with piapia the crust and evidence of being recently asleep.
My posts here have been infrequent as I focus my energy and attention to writing a grant for the first time. The deadline approaches, and there is still more to edit, details to assemble, old fears of being able to pull it off rattle my serenity. Progress not perfection, a piece of old wisdom steps in. That is good. It's a new season, a new fall shifting into winter and for all its familiarity, this is a new venture, new territory. It's a competition grants are. I'd never thought of it that way, but, then I've never applied for a grant before.
We have learned to accommodate ourselves as best we can here in the damp. Long Johns on, blanket over the door, hot rocks in a sock for warming the chest at night. Somewhere there's a thread of commonality I'm stitching here in the early morning time. My cup of Black Forest Wild Tea warms me and the caffeine does something, too. A bit of constructive word dabble to keep the worts of worry from taking hold I take a break from the grant competition, consider opening a metaphoric window so as not to cramp my style. Sip on that dark tea brew.
There's a sag in this old bag and she can get lost in worry, if I let her.
Can't let that sag get the best of me fretting away the goodness
Lingering on the angle of what's the usefulness of that ...
There's a sag in this old bag so why not just put a bit of color in it.
Stitch it with floss and swing a spider in a web
To keep things potent, keep life fresh
Here's a bit of floss and webs on an old baggy pair of favorite pants. I have more stitches to add and maybe a cuff to add length for warmth ...
And some lines from the medicine story Spider Season are just a click away!
What's the season like where you find yourself as Scorpio Season has begun?
Fog fills in the space between the top of the forest floor and the sky. Lono. Cool air descends. What warmth there is in the Earth's skin rises. Captured, there is the Ma'u ka leo o keia wahi, the earth here is damp. Right out of the pages of the Hawaiian Dictionary, that word ma'u picked me ... first thing up while my eyes were still filled with piapia the crust and evidence of being recently asleep.
My posts here have been infrequent as I focus my energy and attention to writing a grant for the first time. The deadline approaches, and there is still more to edit, details to assemble, old fears of being able to pull it off rattle my serenity. Progress not perfection, a piece of old wisdom steps in. That is good. It's a new season, a new fall shifting into winter and for all its familiarity, this is a new venture, new territory. It's a competition grants are. I'd never thought of it that way, but, then I've never applied for a grant before.
We have learned to accommodate ourselves as best we can here in the damp. Long Johns on, blanket over the door, hot rocks in a sock for warming the chest at night. Somewhere there's a thread of commonality I'm stitching here in the early morning time. My cup of Black Forest Wild Tea warms me and the caffeine does something, too. A bit of constructive word dabble to keep the worts of worry from taking hold I take a break from the grant competition, consider opening a metaphoric window so as not to cramp my style. Sip on that dark tea brew.
There's a sag in this old bag and she can get lost in worry, if I let her.
Can't let that sag get the best of me fretting away the goodness
Lingering on the angle of what's the usefulness of that ...
There's a sag in this old bag so why not just put a bit of color in it.
Stitch it with floss and swing a spider in a web
To keep things potent, keep life fresh
Here's a bit of floss and webs on an old baggy pair of favorite pants. I have more stitches to add and maybe a cuff to add length for warmth ...
And some lines from the medicine story Spider Season are just a click away!
What's the season like where you find yourself as Scorpio Season has begun?
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