The Heart Rocks.

Grandfathers. Grandmothers...

In the garden, on the porch,
in the living room, bedroom, bathroom,
in the kicthen window and built into the walls.
On my desk, in the car & sometimes, around my neck.
From the woods, the rivers and the salty sea
From places and spaces that used to be
to now and eternity...

Grandfathers & Grandmothers.

"The Grandfathers are rocks, stones, things I pick up and carry with me. They are called Grandfathers because they possess all knowledge. They have been here on Mother Earth for all time and have seen everything that man has done to Mother earth. They hold all the teachings. They are made from the bones and hair and blood of those that walked before us. So, we call them Grandfathers, (and Grandmothers)."~ Spado

Having Monday & Tuesday off I had hoped to go camping, but instead ended up taking the path photographed. The hills were deceptively steep & the soft, moist clay and dirt were riddled with deer prints...untainted yet by the summers' crowd. The trail itself disappeared upon us, opening up into a hillside field. We trapsed on through to the otherside. We stopped and listened. So quiet but humming with life.

At the basin of our trail laid a quick moving, rambling little creek which fed into the river where we had left the car. We ventured down to the creek. There was a log that went across the creek that looked like a great place to sit after our little hike.

I simultaneously tried to straddle the creek and jump my bum up onto the fallen tree and when my hands grabbed onto the log...my right one landed onto this little fellow. A small heart shaped grandfather...perhaps, the soul mate to my sisters' latest find.

Rocks. Seashells. Keepers. Savers & Givers.
Grandfathers & Grandmothers. So wise...

Pictures

I miss a lot of you very much.... I'm here, just wallowing around in my own world for a bit. I miss the great escape I have found in bouncing into some of your worlds & I just love that I so often learn so much about myself, while reading about you.
Until I get a chance to devote several hours to bouncing around & reading, I thought I'd share some of the prettier & more picturesque stuff from my recent wallowings with you ;)

These are rocks gathered throughout North Georgia by me & my DH. The large white conch shell is said to be about 100 years old. The rocks & shells are all grandfathers.


These guys were happy to join me in the fresh clean water, once everything was all
said & done. Pond has about 13-14 goldfish in it now & one devoted stray cat which lives in the shrubs...of course, the birds and neighborhood dogs love to come visit.



These rocks are so that if a bird should fall in, he might could climb up to a dry spot to take flight from... this heart shaped rock was one of many found so far this year. I knew my collection would come into good use.


The guitar-playing Ski Lodge skillet in the form of a rockin' chicken behind-bars guards the path less taken... the Gerber daisies have made there way, since this pic was taken, into the ground...but my rusty old guitar player still stands at attention.


Finally there's a good old-fashioned night out with the boys playing in the garage. Some of these fellows I have known 25 years & I always amazed at how much we have grown & changed, but I'm more amazed at how much we have remained the same.

The south rocks, the heart rocks and all of you rock... Until Next Time, P&L

Totems of the River, The Rocks, The Heart & the Great Heron

Fluid, moving & changing it course with time.
All together at once, yet completely distinct.
Life-giving. Life changing.

Looking down. Reflections of oneself. Reflections of the skies above.
Looking again, through clear green-tinted karma... life.
Elders, grand-fathers, heart-shaped rocks.

The Great Heron watches over me. Stares at me. Escorts me. Nothing I do goes unnoticed. So, I do nothing.

Floating in peace.

Following the Great Heron's lead, I watch, I wait...I listen.

Squirrels , badgers, beavers, chipmunks, birds of all colors and sizes....swooshing, scaling, dipping, climbing, digging. Chirping, clicking, calling.

River flies, moths, water skeeters, giant yellow butterflies and dragonflies of blue, green, white, red, purple & gray...flitting, floating, buzzing and humming.

Turtles ducking under the water & fish leaping out...
I just float along.
Watching.
Waiting.

I know that right now this is where I am supposed to be.
These are the waters I am supposed to travel through.
This that surrounds me now, grounds me.

Mother Nature tells me to have patience.
Father-Time tells me that when it's time to dive...dive right in.

The Great Heron plucks one well chosen fish from the natural farm at his feet & gives me a sideways glance. Time.
One, two, three, four, five dragonflies perch upon my leg, my toe, my knee, my elbow and my finger.
This is PEACE.
Lost and found in the eternity of now.
Watching.
Waiting.

When the time is right I paddle off to the side & perch myself upon some rocks, just as the Great Heron had perched himself atop fallen trees & the dragonflies had perched themselves upon me.
With a gazillion stone elders, 'grandfathers' as Spado once told me, at my feet...
and the biggest yellow butterfly I have ever seen on my shoulder...
I found them...
Watching...
Waiting...
Just Like Me...

Exit Stage Left

'Stage' ~ 1992, by the Skinny Little Blonde

Sometimes he doesn't seem so happy
Like His World is super small
A tattoo upon his shoulder
He seems so much older
With a cross upon his brow.

This is a short piece I wrote some 15 years ago & for whatever reasons, I saved it.
It was about a guy I once knew... a musician, a husband, a father, a prostitute & friend.
At least those were the things he was when I knew him.

His wife, who became his ex-wife when his best friend was done with his tour of duty in the middle east, was an interesting lass.

They were constantly broke & by government standards, they lived in poverty. Together, with their absolutely beautiful 3 year old daughter, they lived in a small room in his grandfathers' house. The room was large enough to accomodate one twin bed & all of their worldly belongings, which his wife kept articulately organized.

She had a vision & she had a craft.

She would go the Dollar General and buy masking tape, two rolls for a buck. Then, she would walk around back and take a dip in their dumpster. there she would find a sliver of a box, in which she would tuck lots of other broken down boxes. She had a thing for cardboard.

At home, either in her family's room ... or outback on the concrete pad, she would whip out her blade and begin cutting, folding, notching and taping.

You see, outside of the twin size mattress and boxsprings, which sat on the floor, and the hand-me-down clothes... she had no material goods, certainly no other furniture.
But out of cardboard & tape, this girl built a desk and an armoire, a laundry hamper & shelving units.

In the Dollar General dumpster one day, she came across some toss pillows that had apparently been sliced wide-open when employees had cut into the fright box they came in. She grabbed the pillows & runted around for a good long time in that dumpster. Finally, her head popped back up. "I found it! The Perfect Box! See...it's thick & corrogated! I can work wonders with this!"

Several days later, I got to see her completed work... a pumpkin turned into a carriage. With a spent pillow stuffing mattress, a high headboard covered in sliced pillow sleeve butterflies and a canopy top dangling even more butterflies...she had made her baby girl her very own custom sized bed.

The sight gave me butterflies & the memory still does.