1793. three bees


under the trees
hitchhiking a ride, getting d’s 
three bees




 

There I am walking along when something tells me to stop. I get a glimpse of that something…a bee…a honeybee, not moving…is it resting or sleeping or gone? I move in close, then closer, inch by inch. I see the hind leg vibrating, buzzing…or is it hissing! I quick take a picture and go. 
(Look closely into the picture and you’ll see three bees.)




1792. at peace


trees on the mountain
so many leaves, come and go
summer is ending
*
where am i?
how did i get here?  how long? 
who’s counting



 

Just standing. Just looking. This morning, I read a poem written by a T’ang poet who called himself T’ai-Shang Ying-Che (The Ancient Recluse). Here, he replies to someone who was asking him why, and how long he had been living in Chungnan Mountains.

Somehow, I ended up beneath pines…sleeping in comfort on boulders…there aren’t any calendars in the mountains…winter ends but who counts the years




1791. three birds


the birds
and their chatter overwhelm me
with cheer

 



Funny, how birds always have something to say. Even when I can’t know what they are saying, it doesn’t matter. I just close my eyes and listen, and follow them home.




1790. the wind


life goes on
fungus redeeming the earth
little by little





All around there’s a sort of salvation going on in a world of gray and green and rust, side-by-side flying things, falling things, orange things. And the wind, don’t forget the wind. There’s always the wind—it brings change, making things happen and offering hope. Think about it. 





1789. double dip


a double dip cone
but first things first, i had to—
sneeze 🤧 

 



My favorite flavor is vanilla, plain vanilla, but after a long hot walk, I wanted something a little more substantial. I was dreaming about butter pecan or maple walnut. The ice cream store didn’t have either so I asked for a taste of pistachio, then pumpkin cheesecake. I got a double dip on a sugar cone. It was seven dollars! Gone are the days of the 50 cent cone, like when I was a kid.




1788. that’s amore!


the moon hit my eye
like a big pizza pie—
wowee!
 





It was like this.  I was sitting a good 30 or 40 feet away watching, admiring his easy skill with the dough—pizza dough that is—as he lifted and lofted it larger and larger. So of course I had to snap a few pictures with my camera.

No, he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he walked right up to me and said, “I don’t appreciate you’re taking pictures of me.” Then he turned and walked away before I could explain. Oh, well. By the way, the pizza was absolutely “amore!” Made me think of that old Dean Martin song, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!”😋





1787. blood moon



autumn night
the moon, the orange moon
exciting me

 



September 5 the waxing moon was not quite full. 

Today, September 7, the Earth will pass directly between the sun and the moon creating a Blood Moon for a total lunar eclipse lasting approximately 82 minutes. It will be live-streamed and visible in its entirety from many parts of the world, but not North America. For more details Google:  Blood Moon 2025. 




1786. the elegant woman


fans:
one for every day of the week
and then some
*
the elegant woman
can never have too many:
fans





“The Elegant Woman” — 13-1/2 x 12” — Origami 

Like a good woman, every fan has a story to tell. I love this piece. It was commissioned by a good friend who asked for something with fans. These fans are small, measuring 2” to 4” across, made from fine Japanese washi papers. Beginning with large sheets of washi, roughly 30” long by 24” across, I cut 6” strips, then six” squares. From these I cut smaller pieces, three times longer than wide. Then the folding begins. Each of these fans has been folded and unfolded then re-folded six times. The process is long, a quiet moving meditation. I thoroughly enjoyed making this piece and am happy it will go to a good home. 




1785. clouds and moon


no birds chattering
now only the moon and
the blue sky 



 


Last night’s walk. I followed the moon slipping in and out of clouds, lining them in silver. Clouds. Moon. Clouds—they don’t want to hide; they enjoy a good game, a game of peekaboo. Moon—just smiles and goes along for the ride.




1784. a good tree


until i’m old
i’ll go on turning green again….
blowin’ in the wind


 



Lopped-off tree left with only a trunk, not one single branch to grow new leaves, yet every year it turns green again. Can’t keep a good tree down!





1783. aging gracefully


brown into brown
a single leaf disappearing
into itself





There’s something beautiful here in this broken down leaf and the way it’s taking its time all the way to the end, aging gracefully.




1782. hidden lake


ducks paddling away
PLOP! the frog jumps in…ahh!
morning on the lake



 

Our final morning on Hidden Lake. Savoring the moments.



.