Love

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Happy Birthday, Neil

birthday soon
leaves begin their autumn dress
eager wind rushes to receive
only in dreams, summer remains
—Neil, 2021

As many of you know, my dear friend and fellow blogger, Neil Reid, left us last November. Today would have been his 78th birthday. In honor of his kind heart and beautiful writing, I’d like to share with you two poems that will be in our poetry collection coming out next spring. The first one I wrote in honor of Neil, and the second is a favorite poem of his. He had a way of stringing together many different ideas to make you understand a deep truth. The photo above is of his beloved dragon statue which made it’s way to me. It’s magical, like him.

I miss him so much.

If you have a favorite Neil memory, please share it. Or, if his writing is new to you, read more and let me know what you think.

farewell

you are my moose
four legs rooted in soil
stars dancing in dark pupils
sniffing for ripe plums
running from wolves

you hand me threads
wrapped around words
unraveling big pills
not wooden, real live boy
feet kissing earth

you turn toward light
living moss-covered verbs
bowls of ocean water
melt like sugar does
children need sunlight

you wanted Neverland
stories told under willows
hunger turned into warmth
forgetting ancient lost faces
harvest moon dancing

you call me mother
as in honey comb
solid tree branches
bend into dream blossoms
nests, fragile eggs

you remain soft bear
flowing tidal kindness
snuggling soft memories
chocolate cake, closed eyes
embrace salty breath

you return home
tail, fin, gills, scales
shyness turned into galaxies
unafraid of unknown shapes

love is a bucket
we keep filling
forever

—Bridgette

tell me words

when I can’t quite see you.   unclear.   obstructed.
cluttered by stray thought.   sound but no sight.
although more than an arm’s length away.   or,
maybe it’s just smoke.   fine bits of something
recently burnt.   a particulate suspended mass.

     describe smoke


when I called, you came to me.   only a few steps
measured away, but it meant you had to get up,
get out of bed.   something in the dark looked
awry.   my height marked in pencil, ascending
on the doorway jam.   yours by a calming hand.

     describe mother


she was always there.   more than anyone.   her.
feeder of stray cats, any cats.   hands that held
no threats, not to anyone.   a gingham dress.
always.   at least my always.   memory bigger
than me.   mother of mother.

     describe Janet


you come from out of the ground.   you come
from mountaintops.   you come from high and
grey and green and white and dark, clouds we
say.   one drop at a time still makes an ocean
to waiting watchful acolytes.   thirst.   we drink.

     describe water


 check mark all of the above.   a first beginning,
eagerly.   tell me all the stars.   tell me all the
worlds.   tell me about me and about you.   I’m
all ears.   I’ll bring the old cooking pot.

     describe everything

 
you come from the ground when I call.   you answer thirst.
you bake bread.   I comb your hair.   cat’s asleep on the bed.
you are rolling brown grass hills.   my hand knows the curves.
you are a bowl of soup.   you are inside when outside is rain.

     describe loving

—Neil

You’ll forever be my water, Neil. Happy Birthday.

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Update: Not feeling great, how are you?

I’m not doing great.

After the tremendous high of self-publishing my book in April, I’ve spiraled into a funk so deep I’m hesitant to even speak about it. I’ve resisted naming it or giving it power, but the truth is as plain as the sweatpants I’ve been wearing for days.

I’m not doing great.

While I can rally when my friends and family need me, it takes everything out of me. My default Pollyanna attitude, always seeing the joy and wonder in everything, is slowly fading away. It’s harder and harder to put a positive spin on things, and as a result, I’m dissociating more and more. I check out for hours and days at a time by playing on my phone or binge watching TV, often doing both at the same time.

The creative spark I had just months ago seems lost.

Yesterday I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. I’m picking fights with my family, crying easily, and my body hurts all the time. I feel myself stiffening in all ways. It could be stress in my life, the state of the world, perimenopause, or most likely, all of those things combined.

It’s time to seek help. Again.

Sigh.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I think part of getting through this is going to be recommitting to blogging again. Reaching out to this beautiful community as my whole broken self and saying, hey, I sort of need a hug right now and maybe you do too, so how about we hug each other with words? That sounds weird, but you know what I mean. We aren’t alone. None of us.

So, yeah. I’m here.

How are you? I seriously want to know. Good? Bad? Tired? Energized? Did you get a new dog? Your cat do something funny? What projects are you working on? Tell me all the things.

I might not be doing great, but I’m going to show up. I’ve taken a ton of photos lately and it’s time to edit them and share them with you. Maybe the joy of the tiny details will help me in my recovery, and who knows, maybe you’ll find something about them to love too.

I’ll leave you with this photo my daughter took of me in Washington earlier this month. I remember thinking in a world where an artist creates something this magical, anything is possible. I’m holding onto that feeling, even if it’s tiny.

I hope you are too.

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poetry: night sky

some say we return to stars
light returning to source
but I won’t say it to you
as your child left too soon

instead I’ll focus on moonlight
grief rippling across the land
a sliver of silver beside Venus
how small words feel now

once he pulled my giggly son
across a green lawn over and over
“you can stop anytime,” I said
he shrugged, “but he’s so happy”

some say we will meet again
across the rainbow bridge
but I won’t say it to you
as your boy left too soon

*Dedicated to my aunty Nel and my cousin Josh. I wish I could be there today to celebrate his life with you. He will be greatly missed. I love you all.

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Photography: May Day

It can be hard right now to think about light streaming through ribbons, flowers, and youthful hearts, but the world still contains all the beautiful things it always has. Let me take you away from the news for a moment as we dance around the May pole and celebrate the spirit of spring. Let me know if you have a favorite photo and have a wonderful day.

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke

#1

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  • These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.
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Photography: Generational Woods

Mom said she wanted witchy photos in the woods. She wanted to dance in the moonlight and howl. She wanted pointy hats and dark makeup. She wanted her vision of us to be captured forever.

What she didn’t say is generational pain lives in our bones and she wants us to be free. She didn’t say mortality knocks and time moves oh so quickly. She didn’t say let’s be stronger, my dearies, and stop letting others control our happiness. She didn’t have to.

Mom said she wanted witchy photos in the woods. I gave them to her, minus the hats.

This is for you Mom, the one who gives and loves so big, who taught me to be strong, and who carries so much and still laughs. I hope you like the photos and know how much you are loved.

“You’re breaking generational curses. That’s why this doesn’t come easy for you. You’re who your bloodline has been waiting for.” —unknown

  • These photos are of my mom, my daughter, and me. All photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW, except the last one and it’s a screenshot from a small video I took on my iPhone 13. My talented daughter took the photos I’m in.

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poetry: bruises

my clenched words released
burn holes in the good pillows
where my mascara ran
where I slept propped up
where you don’t see me

I can’t shapeshift anymore
my grandmother’s lava burns
where hands pressed down
where softness was cut out
where I hit the window

slow my words down
float upon the current
where light seeps in
where questions are pain
where the answer is love

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poetry: floating together

find me where winter waters flow
honey thick. where ferns weave baskets
cradling colored stones. listen for songs
dripping down cave walls, tiny fairy feet
dancing delicately on crushed shells, soft
foamy voices calling your name. follow
them. do not despair as earthen gravity
releases you. let go. reach through murky
darkness until our fingertips merge. hold
tight as our toes taste stars. I’m beside
you watching our bubbly breath connect
inside and outside. beautifully untethered.

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Dream with me

When children are small you can sprinkle nutritional yeast on millet and tell them it’s fairy dust. With a word, it becomes so. Such is the power of language. What if we could do the same with our dreams? Here’s a poem and flash fiction rambling on about such things. Let me know what you think.

little shadow

perched on a purple wall
staring at my sleeping child

what do you see shadow bird?

do you see. see like me?

my grandfather became cloud
grandmother became butterfly.

I sit in her chair. I sing with his voice.

what will be left for her when I, transform?

maybe I become you.
maybe I watch from a wall.

flying with one word.
staying with another. word.

dream me alive. over and over and over.
clove and nutmeg. owl spreading wings.

forest hears, nothing.

another dream

Transform

One night during a dream of chaos and war a woman gives birth to a baby with hair the color of fresh snow. The baby blinks at the woman with eyes as green as ancient ferns and coos like a dove. What if instead of forgetting the baby when she woke the woman decides to name her Mabel and she becomes as real as coffee.

The woman dresses the dream baby in clothes the color of fresh marigolds and wears her close to her chest in a carrier woven of the softest wool. She takes the baby out into the rain and her laugh becomes lightning. The world sparks around them and glows brighter.

The plants in the woman’s house grow with the baby—greener and taller, greener and taller until the woman is forced to cut through them with a large knife, like an explorer in a jungle. She and the baby laugh at the silliness of it as birds make nests in her living room and a family of rabbits discovers the perfect place to live within her closet.

They spend most days outdoors so Mabel can make the grass thicker, the trees taller, and the flowers bolder. The neighbors don’t know what’s making their gardens grow and the woman decides not to tell them. Not everyone believes as strongly as she does and she fears their disbelief will pull the child away.

When Mabel starts walking the woman takes her outside in the middle of the night and upon seeing the full moon the child begins to sing. The tiny lilting notes cause the stars to dance and the moon to move closer and closer to the Earth. The woman knows this won’t go unnoticed and will have terrible consequences, but she hesitates to act because love defies logic and gravity. Love defies most things.

Mabel however makes the choice for her, wiggling out of her grasp and floating toward the moon. The baby with hair as white as snow returns back into the dream where she was born and the woman walks home alone. Her house feels different but she smiles the same because Mabel is as real as coffee and her physical absence changes nothing. She wraps herself in wool and dream walks to visit her child.

Such is the power of language. And love.

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poetry: somewhere you hold me

speaking stories of us into water
whispers become wanderings

look outward, lean inward

watch raindrops race time
square windowpanes, falling
pooled hope, softened palms 

say something about rum rivers 
while I drink old coffee

touch lace lines, anywhere
forgive becomes forgotten

think blankets, thick fog
old birds underneath
hidden

forward, backward, pretend
time is the same

warmth seeks warmth
close becomes closer

find me

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52 Photo Challenge: Week 51-A Thousand Words

“If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the imagination is worth a thousand pictures.” —J.E.B. Spredemann

This week’s assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to photograph something meaningful to you. As it’s Christmas Eve, I decided to share some decorations around my house that hold meaning for me and my family.

I hope you enjoy these photos and you have a wonderful holiday.

#1: Although this isn’t my grandma Kate’s tree, she had one just like it. You can’t turn it on for too long as the bulbs get nice and hot.

#2: My mother-in-law Janet made this ornament for our family.

#3: I’ve had this tree topper since my first Christmas away from home in 1995.

#4: My parents bought this ornment their first Christmas together.

#5: I’ve had this playset since before the kids were born and I have many fond memories of them playing with it under the tree.

#6: These are vintage and remind me of my children.

#7: Our Christmas cactus bloomed and it reminds me of my mother-in-law.

#8: My mother made this when she was a kid in school and although it’s broken and chipped, it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

#9: I always put my kids in matching striped pajamas.

#10: This doily belonged to my grandma Pat and it’s draped over my grandma Kate’s chair. Both of them are with me.
  • Photos were taken with Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com

52 Photo Challenge
Week 1: Bokeh
Week 2: Silhouette
Week 3: Black and White
Week 4: Motion Blur
Week 5: Texture
Week 6: Framing
Week 7: Leading Lines
Week 8: Negative Space
Week 9: Patterns
Week 10: Symmetry
Week 11: Green
Week 12: Sidelight
Week 13: Sense of Scale
Week 14: One Lens
Week 15: Series
Week 16: Flat Lay
Week 17: Behind the Scenes
Week 18: Water
Week 19: Blurry Foreground
Week 20: Unique Perspective
Week 21: Shadow
Week 22: Food
Week 23: Abstract
Week 24: Reflection
Week 25: Contrast Color
Week 26: Think in Threes
Week 27: Starburst
Week 28: Low Perspective
Week 29: Macro
Week 30: Backlight
Week 31: Big Sky
Week 32: Dominant Color
Week 33: Fill the Frame
Week 34: Spot Metering
Week 35: Handheld Long Exposure
Week 36: S Curve
Week 37: Shoot Through
Week 38: Faces
Week 39: Blossom
Week 40: Environmental Portrait
Week 41: Texture Overlay
Week 42: Details
Week 43: Season
Week 44: Fog & Steam
Week 45: Nighttime
Week 46: Analog
Week 47: Sunrise/Sunset
Week 48: Lens Flare
Week 49: Panorama
Week 50: Street