HomeUncategorizedI’ll not complain about the wind again

Oh, the wind has left me with luck, luck, luck-a-lee, oh, luck-a-lee!

First off, I’ll be heading to hear Gary Snyder read tomorrow at a sorta nearby college. And as if the Lady of Poetry, O Mysterious Muse, could not restrain herself with sparkly good events, I landed a spot at a writer’s workshop with Robert Bly. As in, thirty people and Bly. For forty-five dollars. SO anxious was I to secure my spot at this workshop that I drove to the Prama Institute, where it will be held, and there I discovered a large and loverly building that is in need of art on its walls. A nice place for some high quality prints, I said, and the directors agreed. Wanting to share my good fortune, I called the also sparkly megalopoet and had a most delicious con-ver-say-shee-un, for hours, which is more fun than I’ve had on the phone in ages.

And then today, oh today, the sparkles continue, with Sunshine and Birdsong, and an Enchanted Walk into the forest with my Dear Sweet Friend Whitney, whom I love, love, love, and we beheld all sorts of Spring-Life, and nibbled little red poison ivy leaves (ask me why), and saw a yellow trillium, and little ferns unfurling, and best of all, yes, beautiful gift of the day, a Luna Moth, perched under a rock, perhaps a brand new Luna Moth, with wide and feathery antennae, and a silk-furred body, and green wings wide and folded, and velvet purple legs. 

Then back to work, and work we did, then off to a soccer game, where Alex and Rae BOTH scored points, the game, a winner, and dinner, and here I am, so grateful, so rich with the goodness of living.  The wind has brought me luck, luck, luck-a-lee, luck-a-lee!


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I’ll not complain about the wind again — 3 Comments

  1. The little new red leaves are like a homeopathic dose of the poison of poison ivy. My friend Whitney ate a big red leaf, as she’s been at this for years now, and I ate a tiny one of the the three-leafed leaflet. The most enchanted moment of our little walk was right after we nibbled our little leaves. Whitney told me of the poison ivy attacking her and her husband when they first moved to their little hollow. It grew everywhere, and touching it would cause her to break out, devastation style. She dreamt that the land itself was turning her away. So she called a woman she knew to help her work with the energy of the land–plant spirits, people spirits. Now, we had just walked up behind her home, into the forest, where she had planted and tenderly nurtured all sorts of wildflowers, trees, and herbs, telling me their stories whilst we admired the beginnings of the greensong. I had been struck with how she had woven an intimate and powerful relationship with her land, and how the land had responded to her call for certain plants. And then, as she is telling me the difficult beginnings of this relationship, I turn and see the Luna Moth, just three feet from us. Clearly it was a gift for her, and for me–

  2. Well, that makes perfectly good sense!

    Lovely story about Whitney and the land, and also about the Luna moth. Haven’t seen one of those since moving to KY.

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