Watercolour by RRieder

My Reader says I’ve been reading too much. Reading and listening to the daily news, overhearing conversations, listening to opinions from all sides, some aloud some silent but seen face-on just the same. There’s something to be said about that, but you won’t hear it directly from me nor My Reader.

There is something to be said, however, about long days in the garden, observing life in painterly images captured frame-by-frame and then imprinted in that designated space reserved for future use…in that silent world that some of us are plagued, or blessed with. Sometimes called the creative reserve or what My Reader refers to as “your silence is deafening” place.

Something happened yesterday…not exactly sure what. Maybe the changing of our Pacific Northwest seasons from long-awaited Sunflower yellow days and frog croaking nights, from open-airing doors and windows, into dull-wet days and slugs on the pavement? Maybe. We are coming into the anticipated slog of fall and winter’s wetness mode. Time to resign one’s self into resurrecting the woolly knee-highs and sentinel wellies and home-warming fireplace evenings.

Then there’s this: a timely offering from Maine poet Mr. Kestenbaum that evokes visions of next spring and summer… and hopeful thoughts that maybe the squirrels will share the figs on our fig tree.

Just maybe…

by Stuart Kestenbaum

It’s easy to ignore the moment we dwell in
the time when we should be our own choir.

shouting amen to every second that’s given us
but we forget and think only of the machinery

that’s driving our lives, the idling
engines of our day-to-day-day, the endless

tapping on the keyboards. Or else we’re waiting
for something better to come along, some

out-of-town engagement better than where we
are now. Life isn’t some film we can review again,

it’s live theater, and even if we could go back
what’s the point? Sitting in the darkened room

with the film ticking along and we reverse
the projector and see ourselves

returning in the car before we’ve ever left
walking backwards to our house

or leaping out of the water
we thought we were swimming in.

*Stuart Kestenbaum, poet laureate of Maine since 2016. His most recent book “How to Start Over”, published by Deerbrook Editions, 2019.

Credit: New York Times Magazine, issue 9.1.19, pg.12.


18 thoughts on “EASY ON THE AYES…

  1. Hello Raye, I come late to this post and it’s lovely poem for reasons you know. Nevertheless I enjoyed both this Sunday evening. This afternoon I sat in a room and watched winter sunlight on a building opposite and thought, this is wonderful. I could say the same about this post.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Morning, Michael…although early evening where you are. You “site-stalked” me a couple of days ago and to be quite honest…it made me smile to see you out and about. You know. However, you should know…turn-about is fair. You honour your art (and mine thank you very much for the visit(s)) with not only your exquisite life drawings, but everything else (including word’s-work) in your creative hamper. You brightened my day…for shared reasons. See you again soon….Raye

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hello Raye, great to catch up with you. I was in Portland for a coupe of weeks in August and the weather was perfect, if not a little too warm…a bit of difference from the “…dull-wet days and slugs on the pavement…” you are experiencing now 🙂 This watercolor of yours is very easy on the eyes and has me thinking ahead into spring of next year, which is perfect.

    Also, your post post “Dad…” was brilliant ~ easy to fall into the painting, relaxing with a happy/nostalgic feel. Loved it. Wishing you a great autumn, take care.


  3. Jots, Since comments are closed on so many of your prior posts i’ll take this space to say that besides your many wonderful artworks i find your writing evocative to the bone. continue…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Helene from France arrived on Monday night; Marie arrived yesterday afternoon, and Cis arrived last night. We left the city of Guayaquil this morning and are now in the well-dressed city of Cuenca and had a lovely dinner and are winding down for the night. I opened the WP queue of posts and oh my goodness what a joy it is to see this painting, to read your words and the poem. I then opened the image in its own window – fantastic amazing, so much happening in there and it is all great -even the blue worked between the fringes…

    Thank you for allowing us to peer over your shoulder!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This reader always smiles when Jots shows up in her reader. And this reader is ecstatic about the notion of resurrecting the woolly knee-highs and sentinel wellies and home-warming fireplace evenings. A chill is in the air and a thrill is in my heart.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. HA! There you are….so close but so far…you know the rest! We were warned yesterday by our local Weather Man to get the fireplace checked before lighting up for the season coming. Done.
      As for the woolies and wellies…I’ve learned living in Oregon to always have them both within feet-reach! Thank you for your ecstatic response!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I don’t know where you find the time to write your posts…well done and also well said. Sitting down, for me, any length of long-time…difficult to do when constructing images. I appreciate your [own] ability to engineer through the morass o thoughts…a painting…in the word-sense. As always..thank you for your comment. Well received. RRR

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Mornin’ Missy D!! “Ecstatic” maybe not-so-much but FINALLY might serve a more accurate description! Happy to see you and family moved and, I’m assuming, settled. Not a question…since it doesn’t take you long to get things done. A compliment. xoxoxRRR

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Response was outta sync so I came a-snooping!
      Moved and far from settled and suffering from buyer’s remorse, if I’m honest.
      Don’t have time to get things done. Working way too much and dreaming of rain and closure of golf club!
      That said, come November, I shall take a serious look at what I have and shall make it my own.
      And no, I stand by ECSTATIC.

      Liked by 2 people

  7. This Reader was ecstatic to find you in her inbox. To learn you are well and have spent the long summer hours in your garden and with your paints.
    Such a beautiful post and thank you for sharing that more than splendid poem. Methinks I shall print that one up and post it where I can be reminded to enjoy the now.

    Liked by 2 people

Comments are closed.

A WordPress.com Website.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: