Fall. The honey thickens. Visited the beach at Neskowin. Sunny, a light breeze from the north, temperature around sixty degrees. No sand fleas. The tide was coming in, but it wasn’t so high that we couldn’t see that since our barefoot stroll there two years ago, the ghost forest has been mostly covered with sand. Only the top of one of the heavily barnacled stumps was visible. The western-most part […]
A genuine fall rain, windless, steady, straight down. Sixty degrees. Feet and legs wet from walking at a leisurely pace through a large commercial parking lot. Sandals and puddles. Let us practice nonavoidance, and proclaim it our beliefless, faithless faith. On the front sidewalk, met with a wet, stubborn bee. Old Books. Brief prefatory note by Robert Wiedeman Barrett “Pen” Browning (here signed R.B.B.). The Letters of Robert Browning and […]
heavy dew . . . bare feet / sunrise / hummingbird / watering can . . . . [ 1825 ]
Washing my feet in the stream after a long, dusty hike — there goes a little more of me. . [ 1817 ]
Up and down, over rocks, our feet are covered with dust. Here’s a raven. A flower. Moss. Miles we walk. Down to the stream, out to the middle on high, dry stone. Pools, mirrors, circles, nothing square, no edges. To wash our feet here is to bathe them in infinite space. At home, we carry water to the blueberry and mint. Infinite grace. . [ 1803 ]
When slip met shod, one barefoot, the other odd, they said, It’s come to this? one shake, the other nod, one dip, the other mod, as if awed were flawed and flip were bliss a kiss away from god, then, you guessed it, on they trod, one trip, the other plod. . [ 1760 ]
Moss on the ground, moss on the shrubs, moss on the trees. Moss on the sidewalks, moss in the street. I dare not stop. I dare not sleep. Moss on my feet. . [ 1742 ]
Wildflowers, nasturtiums, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, corn, okra, string beans, sunflowers, purslane, crab grass and everything else that wants to grow — this year’s garden will be interesting, especially since I’ve scattered seeds in places I’ve already forgotten in this sudden transition to sunny skies, bare arms, and warm feet. Under these enlightened conditions, spending the afternoon working outside is much like losing my mind, or would be, if I still […]
This morning, with the thought that warmer weather might someday arrive, we visited a nursery in the country about seventeen miles north of here, a large wholesale business that welcomes retail customers during the months of April, May, and June. On the way, it rained steadily as we crossed swollen creeks and drove by fields, lakes, and ponds, not always sure which were which. While we were inside the nursery’s […]
William Michaelian 