Haiku: April 4 – 7

I missed four whole days!

Experiences stored up:

tomorrow’s poems.


April 3

In the Coffee Shop

She’s saying hello,

stretching arms for a hug,

almost before I see

who she is.

(There’s a name for it,

this problem with recognizing faces.)

She looks healthy, alert,

sundrenched and smiling,

and I can’t help watching

to see if she scans me,

my wintery pallor

and newest pounds added;

I wonder,

is she wondering

if I’m doing OK?

The last eight or ten months

are flipped through — the basics.

She mentions she’d like

us to come out this summer (they’re

still at that place on the river)

and with that we finish,

I’m onward, she’s off,

we’ve connected,

we’re good,


am I OK?


Poem 2

April 2

Oh, just because

the tulips are poking up in little burly clumps


this morning there was pink

mixed with the gray

over the almost snowless hills


even though

opening windows for fresh air

seems like a reasonable thing to do

on a Saturday afternoon while stripping beds

and shaking carpets


despite the fact

that meadowlarks and bluebirds have made

their presence known,

I’m not taking off the storms

quite yet.

Poems? Why not.

I haven’t been writing much lately, so why not start a challenge this month? It’s going to be a hectic month, lots of travel and things, but this challenge (National Poem Writing Month- NaPoWriMo) is a snack-sized one. There is a prompt provided by the challenge every day, to use, or not. Happy April.

April 1


If you knew what you’d find with your eyes open, 
There’d be no sleep on your wheel. 


from “Rigtrade” by Paige Taggart


No sleep on the wheel

The hamsters used to

Reproduce. But not

like the gerbils did.

Spring thaw

I caught myself singing while doing the dishes tonight.

I heard myself making pee and poop jokes with Alden several times over the last few days, catching his startled, delighted double take and peals of disbelieving laughter.

I saw myself say Yes to a friend who asked for help, a small favor, really, but one that might have seemed too much, a few months back.

I noticed an emotion before it controlled my reaction, a few times, small things, intersections, conversations.

There is more light in the days, there is more day to stretch out in.

We have more space in our house and spaces that are beautiful and more functional than we have ever had. This house, this rebuild, this labor of love, this leap of faith.

Like hibernating badgers emerging from winter sleep we uncurl, stretch out and seek company, welcome friends, spill into the yard and the streets and greet neighbors, make food, make music. We’re finding each other, too, here at home— strange, because we’ve been right here all along, but we see each other, blinking in the light, “Oh hi!” The wonder. “I’ve missed you.”



Sunday stroll



Watching for ice floes.

We saw one that stretched nearly shore to shore– startlingly big.

Things have melted so quickly- all that is left of our gigundous blizzard is some wet, sad heaps and dregs. Alden loves finding snow that LOOKS solid but is in fact, slushy booby traps. And then inviting me to “come check it out.”

We took a little walk by the California St Bike Bridge and new Silver Park. I feel like I am rediscovering dog-walking (rather than hill-hiking) — both because of my (mending) tendonitis foot and also because Putty, who we lost this week, was pretty impossible on-leash, and ridiculous off-leash, so these types of walks were off-limits. Not so with Raisin. She is so easy. Doesn’t pull, doesn’t run awazy, comes when called. I am kind of hoping that an upside of losing Putty is that she gets to have a bit of a Renaissance.


I love this bridge. It’s so beautiful, and getting more functional all the time.


The soft droopy snow was kind of perfect for two tiny snowmen. Alden was very fond of them.



I was in a play, back in October. Or was it September? It was a LOT of fun, in the take-over-your-life way that plays are in the week or two leading into performances. I played my fiddle, sang a short a capella piece (melody by my friend the crazy-talented John Sporman) and declaimed a Greek-chorus-y poem at the very end of the whole thing, all while wearing dead-lady makeup and standing barefoot.

After the eighth evening or so in a row of standing barefoot on hard wood floors, my feet hurt like a mother. I know, call the Whaa-mbulance– but, no, really, they killed. I iced them for the first time ever after the second to last evening and almost cried from how good that felt. I did it again after the remaining performances.

After the show, maybe a week or so, I started noticing that my feet still kinda hurt, and that the pain was mostly in my left foot in the heel.

And then after a few more weeks it had kind of migrated to the side of the foot.

And it kind of lingered on…. hurting more if I took bigger walks. I started taking smaller ones. It hurt if I went up and down hills. I started staying on the flat.

Flash forward to early February, and it was just plain hurting a lot of the time, and if I went for a walk, I paid for it that evening and the next day.

I was pretty bummed out about it as you would imagine. I honestly have no idea what I would do for exercise that doesn’t involve moving along, on my feet, in one way or another (faster or slower or uphill or downhill or not) and so I was kinda freaked out by this pain getting continually worse despite doing less and less and less.

Finally came a weekend when I was limping just around the house, and I had to face it, I needed to do SOMETHING. I googled, and the likely culprit was a stress fracture, so I went to the orthopedic walk-in clinic. A few x-rays later, they ruled out the stress fracture and suggested tendonitis, put me in a boot, and signed me up for some physical therapy.

Let me just say that the PT’s knowledge of anatomy and ability to spend time with me actually figuring out what was going on? Really incredible. I felt like, I should have come here first. I was given some (very) simple stretches/moves to do, and I have tried to be pretty faithful about doing them. (I know! I know.) He also has used teeny weenie needles a couple of times to help certain muscles unlearn some habitual spasming. Weird, but cool.

I’m not all the way better (ie, pain-free) by a long shot, but I wish I hadn’t waited so long to get started healing up. There are still a WHOLE lot of places these feet need to carry me.

rubyHere’s a photo from the play! In all fairness, the bare-feet/tenderfoot connection could definitely be a red herring. I regret nothing.:)