the offering

the offering of corn and animal organs that juniper leaves
for the parent crows who caw and caw
while their young one
attempts flapping/flying
against the front and sides of our house

the powdery purple lilac blooms
in this time of tender fresh new green
leaves unfurling from the boughs and branches of trees


how soul-good it is
(at any time
but also at this time
when the wildfires are still raging in new mexico
and the road ahead as long as the current supreme court is involved
looks long and steep
and the war in ukraine has been warring long enough
that it’s now not the biggest news on the front page
of the new york times – certainly there’s a name
for the kind of fatigue that dulls us
even when the horrors are the same as they were before
or worse)…
how soul-good it is
to walk through the dappled light
in the woods
and stop at nearly every spring ephemeral in bloom
(or about to be) including;
trout lily
yellow trout lily
wild ginger
jack in a pulpit
false rue anenome
cutleaf toothwort
blood root
dutchperson’s breeches (hi, stan!)
spring beauty

how good it is
to take in the seemigly endless emerald
of the wild ramps that cover the hillsides
and to note the fuzzy fiddleheads
doing their slow unfurling dance

how sweet it is
to lay a blanket down
and eat a simple meal
and then get lost
in a book
and look up occasionally at all this wild green,
all the carpet of   blooms
as the sun travels over us
until we have to relocate the blanket
to still be in ki’s light

and how sweet
to share it with you, junipero

and also: happy birthdayaversary, detail collector,
my brooding thirteen-year-old

to let the breeze in

rose in her light turquoise fleece and purpley leggings
in the morning kitchen with the grave announcement
that her covid test came back positive
despite how extremely careful she’s been this whole time
based on my going-through-the-drive-thru-for-soft-serve joke
(even tho we’re going through the drive through to swab our noses for a covid test)
we make a detour past the culver’s drive-through
and come away with a small hot fudge sundae and small peanut butter shake
both pierced with those plastic blue spoons
and we roll to a nearby road that ends in gravel
where we can hear the peepers and red-winged blackbirds
and soak up the sun from the front seats
window cracked to let the sounds and breeze in
the fava starts flopping in their tray
out in the actual sun in the actual fresh air on a chair on the porch

because i didn’t have to get a root canal today

great! because i didn‘t have to get a root canal today! i say to myself when the server asks how Lisa and juniper and i are doing today and then i go ahead and actually say it outloud and i’m glad i did because our server has a similar story to share because it makes our meal feel celebratory

and i want to remember that this is a little celebration one can have most days of their life

and chances are pretty high that you, dear reader, can also celebrate that you did not have to get a root canal today too

my aching

the figure (juniper) walking on the side of highway J in the blustery wind as i slow and approach in gray poupon

how she surprises me by being more blues and grays rather than the canary/gold yellow i was thinking


withdrawing from my pain meds i say, joking (which actually isn’t a funny joke, nor appropriate), in reference to not having taken an ibuprofen for my aching jaw (dental situation) in over 24 hours

late afternoon, misty, 50 degrees

how using the hand saw in the backyard to break down our beloved xmas tree (named Ferguson) in the drizzle-mist makes me love the day (that Pacific northwestern wet gray still rings home-like and familiar in this body) and makes me love the neighborhood trees standing evergreen and tall around us (me and Lisi the cat) and makes me love my self (capable, getting things done, and cranking up that body furnace just by working and moving)

on the walk to / back from the co-op

turquoise nylon bag filled with groceries bouncing around on my belly and i walk for a second like i’m pregnant while juniper sucks her breath in at the sharp pain of being a human in a body

the sun is out, neither of us in jackets, it feels like the first day of spring


the seasons first open daffodils, trumpeting their lemon/dandelion/butter goldyellow

to anyone looking/listening

and i ask if times are always this f’d up or if we’re in a particular downfalling of humanity

the practice of asking for help

the good thing about the flat tire

is that I didn’t need to go anywhere /wasn’t relying on that machine to get me somewhere at that time

another good thing about the flat tire is that juniper was patient and down to earth with my fear/worry/upset

and another good thing was the practicing of reaching out to ask for help

which then meant my helpful friend stood w me at the mechanics and asked them the questions i didn’t know needed to be asked

so my spirit can swim

i will not write about the dentist
but i will say
something white flicked onto my black leggings
the small detail i notice before getting up out of the chair
possibly a chunk of filling
and if we have all the technology we do
is there not a way to make the drill sound like a symphoy?
or the smell of ground-down tooth/filling smell like
the cinnamon and sugar of cookies in the oven?


temperature so mild
the kind i could lay out on the porch in
while spring moves across my skin
gusty breezes tugging at silver maple buds almost
burst out into flowers
a deep hot redmaroon
against bright storybook blue


despite the rain/storm
approaching closer but it is still just wind and mist
we detour
following our ears to the seasons first peepers
their swoopy sing sound
lifting and falling into the moody-sky’ed
how i can’t keep from stopping
every 20 steps or so
so my spirit can swim in that sound

upon returning

windows cracked open
soft spring swirlios
sifting into the room, my breath, my spirit
with that new-growth opening-up
kind of way

the still-being-tapped maples
in front of a house over by the hospital
that i tsk tsk because it’s time to take them out
but when juniper and i pass the trees on foot
she looks up and sees the buds
have not yet burst open like those
on our silver maple
so i untsk them
juniper asleep
but awakening to show me
her daily drawing of her
this time with lisi cat
upon returning home