So,me.times

The days I really delve into the writing aren’t right.  I feel wrong and rightfully whole and as though I am manifesting a hole onto an area (now a visible orb).  I feel destroyed and weak and deliberate upon deleting my person.

Mourning and being physically lost are an interesting coupling. Mourning has a meandering inherent and being geographically unguided always feels grandly overwhelming. Yesterday she was both and she weathered the storm with: some water, an apple and granola. She found her destination of sorts.
The Final Fictive Elder- A Sweet Ending

Until the berries ripen more the final ripest fell from the bush.  She landed within the tall grass and soon into the warm hand of a young woman.  She was a lovely fruit half ripened with systemic hatred and the other with sun.  She would smile and rise above and her past was present in her lack of ability to like a hug.  When she left, her departure was felt within the tumbleweeds and called them home to mourn her loss and to celebrate the great gathering.  The creator has some good energy returned.  I will forever miss the elder huckleberry who kindly reminded me of things. 

Some drafts of some cats and dogs.

Some drafts of some cats and dogs.

Cats are friends for the whole duration of not just their life but yours.  I write short stories about cats as often as I am inspired to do so.  I could probably paint them everyday.

Cats are friends for the whole duration of not just their life but yours.  I write short stories about cats as often as I am inspired to do so.  I could probably paint them everyday.

A painted pup!

A painted pup!

Some pinkened plantlife.

A portrait of a yellow rose.

A portrait of a yellow rose.

Not so tart crabapples and the time I spent with them upon the equinox.  Sweeping and picking and sorting and soaking.  Finally… juicing and preserving in the form of sauce! 

A piece of Seattle meets a rural sky.  An apartment warming gift to my sister from me.

Seattle: Under Construction

Seattle: Under Construction

For an entire season her life revolved around nurturing kitten after kitten after kitten and on. Two days prior to the autumnal equinox the last hand fed kitten learned to eat as an adult. She reflected upon her summer wherein she danced none and her mind skated with possibilities. She was now free from such obligation and her sights switched to finding places for the remaining cats. In the mean time, she would paint some dogs.
Impressions of a pup.

Impressions of a pup.

The rising of the moon upon 9/11/2014.

Inspiration is: odd… even!