Sunday, January 23, 2022


 Yesterday morning (which was actually last weekend!)...listening to 88.5...

Music to honor MLK

A great playlist. This one really caught my attention and brought back a fond memory.


From this PLAYLIST

๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿพ     ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿพ      ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿพ

Once again, I'll claim to be scattered, not really doing/posting much, but starting posts, and finishing them eventually.  A record of days as they are.

This is one of those, obviously.

They flit back into the environmentally sensitive native and succulent plants 

as the vibrations of my feet move towards them

big, small,

they are there if you are looking

You have to be looking

I'm looking and pausing, giving them space

Each night, at the same cross street, the light turns red

I stop

I watch the team of men working

older white van parked curbside

The men wear headlamps, clamp lights on the chainlink fence nearby

Each night, they are very busy moving things

The old white van stuffed full, including the rooftop

Each night, I try to discern what they have stuffed in that van

I try to see, while the light is red, what are the many items in and on the van, on the sidewalk all lined up, hanging from the chainlink fence

One night I see a ladder

Another night many extension cords, coiled up and ready for use

I wonder profusely, where these items came from and where they are going?

Who are these folks?

Do they live behind the chainlink fence on the foundation of a once there house?

Someone lives back there now

These questions will probably go unanswered forever

I'm okay with that

Questions don't always need answers, do they?

She sits, preferring the blanket mountain

The tent is gone, the umbrella is also gone, but she remains

Sitting atop her throne, smoking a cigarette - face to the morning sun 

I see her each morning there,

but at night, she disappears into the dark charcoal heap of blankets

Likely unseen by the many commuters traveling by

Last Friday morning, as I move down the road, I notice someone new

Standing next to her is a white-haired man

They are each holding a disposable coffee cup

talking in the morning sun

*This reminds me of Grace & Jude's recent neighborly encounters and makes me happy for her human connection on this day

Rain came, again

It was enough to see it falling, which sounds odd I know

It was loud enough to hear, which while again sounds odd, but is common around here

We often can barely see or hear the rain, even with a sliding door and a metal roofed carport 

Next the wind came, many different days of Wind

Big Wind

And the clouds, with their own stories. We called it a jellyfish cloud

Last Friday, driving home, I was on the 2 lane road, which wraps around the mountain
Right at the most narrow part, uphill tight against the hill
I'm in stopped traffic, heading North
Southbound lane is empty
It is empty except for the single man walking along the side of the road
He is wearing dark clothing and a dark (black?) backpack, thinning hair and a dark beard
He is not easy to see in a road absent of lights
But, I see him.
He is walking firmly, abruptly, angrily(?)
He waves one arm and punches the air above him

I go very still, looking straight ahead, while keeping him in my peripheral vision 
He continues South a few more steps
I run through reasons he could be in this place, presenting as he is
Maybe his car broke down and is mad, although I see no car on the roadside
Maybe he got fired and that was the last straw for him
But, something feels wrong. This is not a walking road, at all
His demeanor shouts a different story

My mind starts racing
It's dark, bumper to bumper traffic
two lane road - around a mountain
No Way Out
no way out
Why is he Here?
What's in the backpack?
Why does he seem so angry?

We move an inch or two
Think, think
Okay, my door is locked, so that's good
I lock it anyway
I remain looking forward
I'm silent, but the repeated chant is loud in my head
Don't come over to me
Don't come over to me
Don't come over to me
we move another inch or two

He begins to cross the road, heading to a car a couple of cars behind me
His arms are waving and his beard surrounded mouth is opened in a yell

We move again
I call 911

Thick is morning fog 
obscuring much of my view
The world turns yellow

May you have both dull and brilliant in your world
May you notice the mysteries
May you embrace the goodness and survive the fear
Photos by NAE @pomegranatetrail ©2022


  1. mysteries and magic. brilliance and blurs. clarity and curiosity. now that’s what i call a good day.

  2. fear ... coupled with a mind that asks questions, imagines answers ... your near-encounter with the angry man encapsulates the sense of foreboding, the dangers that we have navigated for two years now ... how much more adrenaline can our bodies process?

  3. Jeanne~ Well, a week...but yeah, life is full! Hope you are well. I've been thinking of you :)

    Liz~ Not much more, not much more. I don't need that kind of scare for sure! (((hugs)))

  4. A day in the life of...from Mavis Staples, We Shall Not Be Moved, that I am listening to as I write this to the little lizard basking on the wall to the gripping tale of what you see as you drive our senses adapt to all that comes at us...

    and Mavis sings, "fighting for our children, we shall not be moved" and I think of you brave teachers, angels among us as are our nurses, who face the pandemic, who face the wrath at times of parents, but who always show up, for the children...

  5. Marti~ Don't you love that song?! I love how you can drop any social justice idea right into it and sing it loud! I'm glad to say our families are very nice to us. My senses are often on overload ;)

  6. There are so many times I want to take pictures while driving, don't get to stop enough. So much life here Nancy...

  7. Deb~ So much life, yes. Sometimes I'm truly over so much Human life. I do a lot of NPR listening and thinking on these drives. Lots of considering. Sometimes I point and shoot without looking, if I'm moving and the roads are empty. I wish my eyes were a camera and my thoughts & questions recorded! Thanks for riding along Deb, it means a lot.


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