Tag: summer

Summertime

On By NW FilbertIn Journallings, Music, Reflections8 Comments

In our realm, Summer busies – schedules, rituals and rhythms deconstruct and a verve of freedom and compulsion arises in our children.  And there are vacations and visitors and spontaneous events.  The weather withers me, people are drawn to the outside, in all – Summer discomforts me.

And yet…this week expect the visits of my wife’s twin, her aunt, and a long-time friend and his family, AND we’ll celebrate these dear twins birthday with wild national hoopla (July 4 – precious to me because she entered the world, but I’m happy to have help in the celebrating at this level!).

What gathers and whispers…or shouts and plays…runs and claps…talks and snuggles…HOME…those precious to us, invaluable, incalculable,

Yesterday eve we were enjoying a particularly (abnormal) gentle, cool Kansas Summer eve on our porch and listening to the music of Keith Kenniff – placed here as a celebration of Summer’s affordances – dislocated time, gatherings, visitations and travels – favorites – family, friends, nests…

Keith Kenniff - Branches

Keith Kenniff – Branches

SnapShotting Summer

On By NW FilbertIn Experimenctes, Photography2 Comments

I lived for awhile in Grand Rapids, Michigan, attending graduate school and being regenerated and grown in-vitro like a culture into the family, religion and industry of literature.  I’ve recently stumbled across a photographer’s blog who shoots many subjects in and around that West Michigan area.  If you browse her photos over the past week or two it will provide you a feel for snapshotting summer…and here are some verbal renditions…

STRASSENFOTOJOURNAL

“Dozing in the Heat: Grand Haven”
by Cornelia Lohs

Snap-shotting Summer

 

Ever the distortion of mind.  With emotion, contortion.

At times, a necessary snap.

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A young woman peddling her bicycle, unclothed for summer.  Body moving like taffy on its paddles.  Just as pliant, just as tight, and just as supple.  As salty, as mouth-watering, as sweet.

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Tumbles in the machinery like loose screws, clanking and rattling around.

A clicker, a habit, desire.

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Sun sears glares upon moments, lasering trains of thought.  Dis integration.  You stumble, you wobble, you very nearly fall.  Erasing inspiration with foul mood.  You adjust.

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Scars like the outside, on the surface of the brain.

Called memory, called dreaming, called thought.

Or so you imagine.

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Pool or sprinkler, sweat and breeze, you forgot.  Moment’s season’s change, and you were happy.  Somewhere in mountains, or North by the sea.  Without belongings.

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It emerges like a wire, a monster’s bite.

You’ll call it “me” or “I” and it’ll stand for something.  Continuity.

An inventor’s dream.

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Einstein defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

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“I” continues to sit and walk, lie and stand.  To eat.  To breathe.