Buttercups & the Hula-Hoop Moon

I sit on the curb with a thousand and one things to do and instead I plunder through the sidewalk chalk...
psychedelic and inverted etchings in the sand take form on the blacktop of my street...
inevitably, the eternal waves of the ocean wash away such etchings, just as each passing car throws another clouded puff of chalk into the air...

my audience, sitting on a cast iron table that weighs more than I do are yellow flowers...
like me, they continue to face the skies...
where the sun once was and where the full yellow moon rises hula-hooping misty rings of amber...
and I begin to sing...
'why don't you fill me up?'
I hear her sweet angel-like voice join right in...
'fill me up! buttercup baby...'

Flowers and sunbursts, peace signs and words cover the road before me...
we forgot about the bills to be paid, the calls to be made, the clothes to be washed and the bags to be packed...

No worries.
Just a couple girls, an open road, a setting sun, a rising moon, a box of chalk and a connected peace...

A couple of hours later, another girlfriend told me that I had better get busy gathering and packing for the beach.
I thought about it...
but opted to simply enjoy my moment, right then, there, with her...
as I had chosen to enjoy my moment in the road...

It's all good. I'll get it all taken care of.

Plus, I know that if the jolly green giant were to come down at this moment or any moment and declare
'SkinnY! You have one hour to pack your stuff!' that in that one hour, I would gather all that I needed...
tethered to the moment, tethered to my faith...

Four more days...
until I don't need the chalk to scribble in the sands...

(Artwork compliments of Singleton, Rachael, Skinny and Mother Nature...May the Circle Remain Unbroken)

Walking, Wading and Resting...In Peace

I'm dirty.

Dirt, dust, clay, mud, soot, scum, sweat, debris, paint chips, smoke, splinters and surely some poisonous stuff and maybe some itsy-bitsy, tiny spiders too.
Covered.

And as soon as the last load of wash finishes, I'll hop into this old house's clawfoot for a cool, refreshing shower....
throw on some old soft cotton threads, kill all the lights and melt into the hammock out back...

simply enjoy knowing that sometimes walking through peace means running, lifting, heaving, chopping, scraping, climbing, squatting, mixing, digging, scraping and yes, eventually resting...if even just for a moment

everything comes full circle...
may evening peace becomes morning peace.

'Walking Through Peace' Hippie Art by Sister Singleton

Pad Locks & Pixies

It was just a crazy dream with an image of my Vilulah girl standing in the doorway of the shed outback, doors swinging wide open, but it stuck with me all day.

And then it was real...only the doors weren't swinging, they were just wide open.
And Vilulah wasn't standing, she was sitting.

It was cold, real cold but not rainy or windy, so I simply let it be...

When the weatherman threatened rain a couple days later, I slid the padlock back through the male and female parts of the latch, spun it so that it would appear locked & cinched the doors shut again.

It wasn't but a day later when the doors were found open again, this time swinging in the rain, padlock clanking coldly, dangling from the male part of the latch.

In nearly 8 years this has never happened, but it was cold so I just let it alone....knowing.

After the rains came and went, I fed the padlock through both sides of the latch again. I looked around...out into the shadows, to see if someone was watching and I ventured back into the fire-fed warmth of my house.

I found myself once again, just a few days later...outback, after dark, re-latching & mock-locking my shed. It was just too dang cold to snap that padlock locked.

Really, I live in the friendliest ghetto in town. It really quite quaint & I am afforded some of the best people on this green earth as my immediate neighbors.

Sometimes I forget to deadbolt my backdoor when I leave. Sometimes, I forget to do that for weeks or months at a time.... until something small reminds me....
like a 5 gallon change jar left empty in the yard or a broken piece of pottery with all of it's splattered shards gathered and tucked safely inside, resting safely more centered on the table or a long forgotten jewelry box pulled from the bowels of the bottom shelf, emptied of it's costumed artifacts and left sitting on the pillow ...little reminders that Pixies are real.

But they never take the trash out.

While at work, a neighbor with keys to my house came to borrow something off of my entryway table.
She was surprised to see Vilulah inside & Smokie out on such a clear, sunny, even if cold, day, especially knowing that I would be gone for 12 hrs. I was equally surprised when she called that evening to inquire because Vilulah was out when I left & out when I returned.

So it began with a dream & it ended with one too. I dreamed of a boy I once faintly knew, a boy who knew my dogs better than he knew me and better than I knew of.... a boy I once knew to be homeless.

Trash day...

I stumbled in the pre-dawn hours to the back door and found a tiny pane of clear stained glass window to peer through and I some him.

He wore all blue and jumped my fence. I thought about popping the backdoor open and saying something & thought better.

Even in my foggy morning head, I knew Spring was just around the corner.

So, I gathered the trash & took it out.

Two days later, I popped up out of bed & headed right back to that same little window pane. I don't know what I woke up looking for but I know what I saw.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, re-focused... there he was.

In the alley, just outside my fence... peacefully getting into the back of a police car.

Later that night, after work, I checked out the shed. So, maybe I am missing a couple sleeping bags...a tent...

I cinched her shut tight, spun the padlock & clicked it tight.

And when I left for work the next day,
I deadbolted the back door...
knowing Spring is just around the corner...

Come Out & Play ... Let's Play In The Street Again

The house I lived the longest in as a child had the gift of time on it's side. Located just a few blocks from the downtown district of our community, our little street kept (and still keeps) a red brick road.
The nostalgia I have for growing up under expansive oak trees and on the ripple-ly, dipple-ly brick road led me to buying my little chateau under the oaks and paving my own driveway and walkways out of brick today.
But the street I live on now, long ago went from dirt to pavement....laying a path for new experiences for the child in me.
For thirty cents, I picked up the most entertaining twelve pack a girl could possibly scoop up. There were reds, blues, purples, yellows, greens, pinks and more.
Last weeks message, left at the four way stop was 'Stop In the Name of Love.'
This weeks words were 'Let the Love Light Shine On'

Oh....How much fun to play in the streets again!

(Pixies for Peace Artwork by my Hippie Love ... Singleton)