Eve of Beltane

Today is the eve of one of my favorite holidays, Beltane, otherwise known as May Day. It is one of the few Pagan holidays that was not adopted by Christianity and morphed into a religious holiday. The reason being is that it is a holiday to celebrate sexuality and fertility, plain and simple. In old-time cultures, fires would be lit in the evening and there would be much merry making and flirtation. Farm animals would be paraded around the fires to ensure their fertility, as participants jumped over the fire for good luck. It is the natural time of year when flowers and trees are pollinating, animals are mating, and the landscape explodes in lushness. On May 1 these same cultures would erect a maypole, as a phallic symbol, and ribbons would be hung from the top to the ground. Townspeople, especially the young, would participate in a dance to weave the ribbons in symbolism of the union of sexual activity to ensure the fertility of crops. However, in the early morning merrymaking from the previous night would continue as couples went a-maying as a means to retreat to a place out in nature, such as the woods, and engage in lascivious behavior often resulting in intercourse. It was a celebration of the freedom of the sacred union (so you can probably see why the church banned it). Of course, to the children, a-maying would simply mean to go out and pick flowers and make wreaths. I don't know why as a child, I often would wander into the neighbors yards specifically on May Day to pick their flowers for a nice bouquet for my mom.  As an adult, I celebrate Beltane for the beauty of the landscape, the burning of sensual desire, the open and free celebration of sacred sex... and well, that's all I'm going to say about that. Happy May Day!    

A Chance Meeting

The other day while I was waiting at the courtesy counter at the local supermarket, I was startled out of boredom by a high pitched screech of a voice coming from behind me. Startled, I turned to face an elderly woman with pocketbook slung over a shoulder clutching a walker. She was clearly distressed as evidenced by the involuntary shaking of her white curly head as she demanded to speak with the manager. The clerk, pretending to be the manager, asked her what was wrong. She hesitated, before she blurted out, "someone parked crooked in the handicapped spot and I couldn't get my car in." Before the clerk could respond, she produced a piece of ragged paper and waved it wildly, "I got the license plate." Suddenly she looked confident and in control of the situation... I thought, ok girl, you go. I tried not to stare at her as I'm apt to do when intrigued with human behavior (I've been asked several times in my life, "what the hell are you looking at?" and I don't dare answer, "nothing.") But in one glance I could see that although she was probably 20 years my senior, she had lipstick on, sported a handsome pantsuit, and she was tall and stately. The clerk announced the offender's license plate over the loudspeaker as the manager appeared. Suddenly, a little old man hobbled over and asked why he was being paged. This was going to interesting, I thought. The lady yelled at him..."I couldn't get in my spot because you parked all crooked and took up two spaces"... (I couldn't help but noticing him glance at his accuser up and down and I almost laughed thinking, ok dude you still notice like a man). His face fell in deference to her and with an apologetic look he said, "I'm sorry but when I was pulling in the person pulling out almost hit me... it was his fault really, but I'm really very sorry"... now I saw the softening in the old woman's face as she was somehow victorious. As I left the store, I watched this couple hitting it off in their exchanges of inconsiderate drivers. The anger was gone, and it seemed a perfectly good chat. Mmmnn, I thought, wouldn't it be great if these two developed a budding relationship in the winter of their years. A romantic like me will always see possibilities.

How a Day Flies South

Every day is a new adventure in learning... especially when you don't have the luxury of distraction, like a job. I awoke predawn, excited by the prospect of the Spring heat wave and the need to post poetry that has ripped into my psyche. Think before you speak is my new mantra, however, I am an impatient soul. Knowing there was some tension, I did my exercise routine... ah, solace in the discipline of Pilates... a good start. Next, I tackled the issue of calling the unemployment office as my extension was granted but checks were not forthcoming. I waited for the live person, an hour in queque as I continued the daily routine of laundry, dishes, and other domestic chores. My Dad called four times to my ignoring. Finally a surly man got on the phone, and put in my information... I was calm. He said, "you were cut off, but there is an extension, you know, why didn't you speak to a live person. I took a deep breath and replied, "isn't that is what I'm doing now?" Yea, he replied, you haven't received a check in a month" ( somewhere I heard a dumb bitch refrain in his voice). "I'm trying to be patient," was all I could reply. Unamused, I could hear violent typing into his computer, "you shoulda called sooner, now I have to delete you to put you back into the system, you'll get your paperwork in the mail." He hung up annoyed. Meanwhile, my Dad called in a panic, " I tryed to call you several times but this new god-damned cell phone isn't working. "I replied as calmly as I could, Dad, I'm talking to you now, I was on a phone queque and didn't want to disrupt the call. What is the matter?"   "Well... (deep drag of his cigarette) I was telling you last time about the Charles Dickens special on masterpiece theater, Little Dorrit... "yes, Dad, I read the book when I was in my teens." "Well", he countered, "it turns out that Charles Dickens left his wife and ten kids, for a young woman because the wife got fat." Ok Dad, your point? "Well, I'm just saying, men do that, you know." He then proceeded to tell me all about his TV shows, as I feebly offered, "no, I don't watch TV Dad, but go on." In a span of an hour, I heard all about the danger of the Internet and why I should not be posting there, the poor girl (Susan Boyle) with the great voice being ruined by make-overs, why the phone company is all messed up, and why everyone is always bragging about them self when nobody really gives a damn. I am a good listener, even for negativity. I hung up thinking about the words of Ram Dass, "if you think you're enlightened spend a week with your family." I am already dreading the trip south... think happy thoughts Wen, hang in there.

Riding High

What a glorious day it is, I'm so excited I could burst! This is my favorite season... Spring, when all my favorite colors shine brilliantly in the warm sun. I took a bike ride this morning and it was already pushing 70 degrees (wonderful for me because I like it hot). I got giddy gazing around at all the blooms that blossomed over this weekend's heat wave. The cherry, apple, and pear trees are in full blooms ranging from white to fuchsia depending on the variety. I spotted my favorite lilac's in lavender delight and was able to steer my bike close enough to get a whiff of that perfume... mmm I was instantly transported back to my childhood where I spent countless hours under the lilac bushes reading poetry. Scent brings back the most vivid memories. Everywhere I rode, my head was turning side to side as I didn't want to miss a blooming color. Even the spring leaves that have sprouted are the perfect shade of chartreuse today and green pollen is everywhere... do you think I care? Japanese maples have shined up their leaves to a bright red, while the birch trees have hung their caterpillar buds up to dry in the sun. I spent 40 minutes riding around town on my bike and it wasn't enough; just thinking about what I saw this morning, I'm going to walk to the store for something... just to get another look at my beloved trees. One of the neighbor's recently planted this cheery little cherry, and so I snuck over with my camera to take a shot and welcome the little one to the neighborhood. Obviously I am an unashamed tree hugger... you can see the ecstasy in my profile pix as I hug a giant redwood. I also talk to them... but maybe that's giving away too much information. So once I finish here I'm going for a slow walk to the store, just to get another look at this perfect Spring day! 

Bring on the Weeds!

I just got in from my walk to the grocery store and I'm finally all excited about Spring. The buds on the trees are chartreuse in the sunlight and as I look up into the blue sky with grey and white clouds as a backdrop it's simply breathtaking. By as I was walking along the neat row of houses in the residential neighborhood on route to the store, I kept looking down at the edges of lawn to see the prettiest assortment of weeds. My favorite's are the dandy lions with their golden seussical hairdo. Most people hate them and much time and money is spent keeping them from growing on those posh lush lawns that some people are proud of. My lawn is sprouting with them and I couldn't be happier. I even love when their heads turn white and fluffy and I can pick them and blow wishes into the wind. Another weedy favorite is the wild purple violets that crop up on the lawn. They seem to be guarded by the numerous round leaves that surround them because they are so tiny and fragile looking... but don't be fooled. I've seen them grow in sidewalk cracks as well. I don't know the proper names of some of the other weeds that delight me, but one variety is white star-shaped with pink stripes and seems to like shady places. Another is a dusty purple spiked weed that only grows about an inch high, prefers sunlight and is a favorite of bees. Then there the busy weed that looks like tiny versions of a forget me nots, and is a beautiful sky blue and white that matches the sky. They grow in wild random clusters often next to phone poles on the very properties where people would not want them... weeds can be spiteful. My yard is full of weedy friends and they are at home there because I like the color and diversity in a lawn that most would consider raggedy. Add in the moss and dirt patches and it's a yard I can be truly proud of.

Alone With My Thoughts

This past year has been a whirl of activity and diversions. Having been fired from the workplace, the grandest of diversions, I have busied myself in the attempt to make sense of my failing there and found that it didn't make sense. Moving on I took interviews from dozens of recruiters in search of work that I no longer desired and gave up. Right before the housing market tanked, I got busy making our home the perfect sell by painting, rearranging, and downsizing stuff... only to find that the market for such a home as ours is rarer than I would have liked to believe. Still, there was the busyness of helping a child find his way from the nest, encouraging the others that their lives were in good working order. I successfully put a habit of exercise into my day and found new creative outlets for my time . I succeeded there, but now that those diversions fit in a comfortable routine... the day is still long. Thoughts once stuffed away like seasonal clothes are tumbling out and into my mind in a frenzy. Some days I get busy with chores, or poetry, or photography... to stop the mental pursuance... but it continues and I ask myself why? I get haunted with the voice of Van Morrison as he sings, "it ain't why, why, why, ... it just is." So today in the spirit of is, I'm facing all those thoughts and frankly I'm terrified. All those thoughts are the ravings of someone who wants to be known, not as I would like others to see me, but for who I really am. A great prophet once declared, "Know thyself"... and I think if I can peel away the layer of thoughts that scream for attention I just might succeed. It's a work in progress... or is it just another form of distraction?

Going to the Dentist...Yea!

I've been looking forward to my dental appointment for weeks now. I know it sounds crazy but gone are the days of having those painfully digging teeth cleanings... now I get gas, sweet sleepy gas. Like a kid waiting for the prize from the gumball machine, I barely listen to the lecture about flossing and proper brushing technique. I wait in anticipation of the vanilla smelling mask that will hug my face, and then the wafting of that aromatic breeze that floats up my nose. Mmmnnn... I can't breathe deeply enough. Suddenly I am miles away from the chat of the hygienist, my mouth is open and awaiting the scraping and digging, but my mind is gently floating in thoughts of sunshine, lollipops, and world peace. My gas makes me high, calm, and happy as I float far, far away. Words spoken become impressionistic in their blur. I can't answer to the incomprehensible chatter going on around me and I couldn't care less. I peacefully listen to the classical music that plays in the background and enjoy myself in a state I can only usually achieve with meditation. Time goes slowly and it is a good thing as I think, oh goody she still has the whole set of top teeth to clean. It's only when the valve gets turned to oxygen that I am snapped back to the real world... only mildly disappointed that the cleaning is over. As I have no car, I have to walk the half mile or so to get to my appointment and as it had been raining, normally I would be terrified of seeing worms on the pavement. Not anymore, as I finally realized where this phobia comes from and I plan on making peace with worms... it wasn't their fault I became afraid. The only danger lies in the fact that the weather holds the threat of a thunderstorm. If there is lightening my umbrella could prove dangerous. My mom always told me that if you get struck by lightening you become an instant saint. Since that would be scary, I think I'll just wear my rubbered sneakers and take my chances.  

A Change of Scenery

Yesterday I went for a walk to the duckpond, a familiar place to the inhabitants of my town. I brought a pocket camera with me, as I was hoping to snap some shots of the budding spring. I started gazing at the Magnolia trees, the daffodils, hyacinths, forsythia and budding maples. No shots here, I thought to myself, I have been photographing these sights of beauty for years now. It still gave me joy to see the colors, but I walked on. I started to notice everything around me as if I saw it for the first time. I always notice Nature that way but today was different. I saw an odd array of things on my walk... funny things that made me wonder. On the side of the road was an old discarded dishtowel, crumpled and faded a to a pinkish rust color. It looked like an old man in a turban and so I snapped a photo. Next I came to a small tree at the edge of a firehouse parking lot. There was a big black rubber slip-on shoe (probably a women's size 10) hanging from one of the bare branches of the little tree. I thought, How do you lose one shoe, who put it there, and why?... my active imagination got the best of me and I cracked myself up with a story. When I came upon the sloping view to the pond itself, I saw that someone had left two dirty white lawn chairs by the bank. Both were knocked over backwards in a haphazard way and it seemed the scene of an angry exit... again a short story was imagined. A little further down the road there was an old tree that was spray painted with a rainbow of green and orange, over a hole in the base of the tree. Perhaps it was tagged to be removed, by why so colorful?... then I just assumed that leprechauns were doing some decorating... and smiled. My last photo was of a women's drab beige crocheted winter hat with two big buttons sewn into the front. I could only imagine that if a child were made to wear the ugly thing... it would be intentionally lost in no time. The hat was placed on a fence post in front of someone's yard making it look even more forlorn and frumpy in the surrounding spring. I imagined the face of the ancient person to who it belonged and figured it would be silly for them to retrieve it now. I couldn't wait to bring the photos to life at home in my computer lab. Nature gives me lots of pleasure as I walk, but these funny things stimulated my imagination... and may provide stories for later pleasure.

Super Sleuth

There was a little excitement today at goddess palace. It started out like most days... coffee and cig, TV blather til, Tarot card and horoscope check (good day), Otis exercise, my exercise and rabbit management (cage cleaning). I sought to sneak in a game of Word Find when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I was elated, a visitor. Yikes! It was a cop car. He got out of his car and headed over to my neighbor next door. Whew, seeing a cop at the door is usually not a good thing. I went back to my puzzle and a few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Uh-oh, now what? I answered the door in my bifocals with the puzzle in hand. The crew cutted fellow immediately stated, "we have a mystery in the neighborhood." I tried not to look to pleased and thought, Oh goody! Instead I put on a worried look and said, "what's going on?" He said, " Someone left a lawnmower in your neighbor's yard that doesn't belong to them. " I stifled a giggle and got even more serious, until he demanded, "do you have a lawnmower?" Perhaps I looked guilty as he looked directly into my eyes, and I quickly responded, "No, we all use landscaping services on this block." (then I did feel guilty because it sounded pretentious). "Well", he stated with authority, "we take this very seriously as this could be used as a ploy to case or rob the home." I didn't really get the connection, but I stated, "Oh that's alright officer, I am always home, except if I have to walk to the store, and I'll be vigilant in watching the neighborhood for suspicious activity." He just nodded at me and marched off. So today, I have been peeking out curtains to the house in question, running to the door when I catch sight of a person coming down the street, and I will post myself on the front porch as a self appointed Neighborhood Watch. I have a mission today... Wendilea Super Sleuth. The routine has been broken.    

Getting to Publish

Over the past few years I have on again off again been interested in writing my memoir of growing up in the 60's. It was a turbulent time for the country, and also for my family. I have recorded pages of memory which I try to recreate in the voice of the child that is telling the story. Sometimes the memories flow freely and I could write volumes. At other times a particularly painful memory (or hint at one) gets blocked and I tend to abandon the project for a while. It's not that my childhood was any more difficult than anyone else's, but I am trying to make all these memories come together in triumph for molding me into who I am. I steer away from whining about how hard things were as opinion, and instead focus on storytelling a tale that it unique to my family. The hardest part is trying to get the dialogue right and that is probably where my own perception instead of an accurate representation will appear. I thought I was near completion and had enough material to complete a book. Luckily there are great web-sites that tell you the steps you need to take to do just that. Most agents who will represent you in finding a publisher will want to know how many words you have. So yesterday I downloaded an application that counts the words in the document for you ( I know Microsoft does this for you, but I use Text Editor on my Mac and it doesn't). According to my research most novels are between 80,000 and 100,000 words. Hmm, so far I only have a mere 29,000.   I'm wondering if I should go ahead and send a query to an agent to see if they would be interested, or just go back to the drawing board and get the job done. Since rejection may be part process in getting an agent, my first thought is to keep writing and put it off. On second thought, why spend all that time writing something no one would want to read anyway. Perhaps I can find a web-site where they will pay me to share my story. Decisions, decisions... it feels like a good day to procrastinate. 

Letting the Poison Out

It's one of those cruel days of April, cold, dark, and damp. The tree buds are sprouting and the forsythia is in bloom and... well dammit the sun should be shining. It was another sleepless night of sweating and insomnia... the season of change for a woman my age. Booo, I hate it. My thoughts range from nasty discontent to downright paranoia and I need an outlet. I could drink heavily and then put myself to bed for a long nap... but the guilt would kill me. So I write, and walk, and busy myself with mundane house chores... oh, and word find puzzles. Recently I put to rest my Snarky Barker blog which was written to purge myself of the dark moods. Then in a moment of self doubt I thought that maybe I was inviting too much negativity in my life... they were really harmless because they were not directed at anyone or anything in particular... just a sardonic look at inner anger that women possess but do not admit. My husband was one of the only people in the world who found it laugh at loud funny, and he still encourages me to "let the poison out." And so because I love him dearly and because the least I can do for him in my hormonal distress is to make him laugh... I will continue. Publishing it online is quite another matter.  

The Culinary Torch has Been Passed

He arrived early as planned with his quiet excitement for his well planned menu. My son Dale was cooking the Easter dinner for the family. The pork shoulder and specialty ingredients were purchased a day in advance, his enthusiasm was contagious as he prepared the roast with a homemade marinade. The recipe was simply written on yellow lined paper... a gift he received from the mother of his friend Jesus. She had prepared this meal for her family many times, and sent leftovers to my son who enjoyed the rich flavors of her native Puerto Rico. He wanted to share this meal with his own family and yesterday he did just that. The yucca was peeled and cubed and put to boil as the pork slow roasted in the oven. Several times he corrected my pronunciation of the foreign vegetable. Yellow plantains were stripped, sliced, and fried to golden perfection in small salted batches. Rice was toasted and then put to simmer with sofrito and pigeon peas. He explained the process along the way as one who truly enjoys his craft. The fatted skin of the shoulder was put to a quick broil to crisp up the skin, the meat then laid to rest... to set before the carving. I was allowed to oversee the making of the gravy... my one big culinary mastery, and he performed it brilliantly. Our feast was thoroughly enjoyed by the family, and yet as we savored the rich flavors of the meal, my son reviewed his performance as a critique for next time. In my eyes everything was perfect, but my opinion doesn't really count because he is my son and I am blinded by a mother's love. 

Happy Easter Bunny

I don't usually post a blog entry on a Saturday, but in talking to my sister Vicki on Friday... we spoke about how much we both like animals (she's a Sagittarius, I'm a Virgo) and we went on at length about our "babies." Her baby is a chihuahua named Mimi and she bought her a little Easter skirt to wear. Since I'm not Christian anymore (but was raised one) I told her my baby Otis the bunny rabbit, would not take kindly to be dressed up for Easter. But to show my unity with the religion in which I was raised, I told her that I would video me singing the "Peter Cottontail" song with my bunny boy. We had no time for rehearsal, and since Otis was already in an ornery mood (nipped Daddy this am) I wasn't sure he would tolerate this debut. Daddy took the video and perhaps because he was a bit nervous in his new role as film director, he started "shooting bunnies" as I began singing to Otis. "Shooting bunnies" is an old Scranton term for letting out little staccato farts. I had a hard time performing, but Otis was tolerant as long as I didn't make him dance. So here is the video and Happy Easter to all!  

My Little Chickadee

My favorite sound in the Spring is that of the chickadee, a tiny bird who graces the trees that surround our home. His voice is loud, clear, and confident and the song the little one sings will stop me in my tracks. I'm not quite sure if our little guy is a Carolina or a Black Capped variety, and frankly it doesn't really matter.... his song is beautiful. It usually starts out as a sharp crisp fee-bee, fee-bee and as it gets louder and bolder it will go into a symphony of trill. Fee-bee, fee-bee dootdootadoot, dootdootadoot. This occurs randomly throughout the day beginning at 4 in the morning right up until dusk. The other morning, after a restless night of sleep, I woke up tired and Grinchy. When I heard my chickadee singing his birdie doo-woop song, my heart softened (and probably grew three sizes in that moment). I felt comforted and encouraged to make it a good day. He returned to sing for me several times that afternoon... singing at the top of his little lungs in the warm sunshine. I stopped the house chores I was doing and went to the porch with binoculars to see if I could catch his performance as he sang from the trees. As I scanned the maple trees in our yard and then the pine trees in my neighbors yard, he suddenly stopped... perhaps he's shy. But I know he will be back, and I hope he enjoys the songbird seed we left for him in our bird feeder. I can't wait to see him, so I will know what variety he is. I can tell you though, I spent hours on the web listening to all manner of chickadee calls, and I can't find one that comes close to the beauty of my bird's song. I have to enjoy his singing as much as I can this season, as he seems to disappear at the end of Spring. 

P.S. You probably won't believe me, but as I finished this entry and went to the porch, my chickadee was singing in the bush next to my house. I saw him with binoculars and he is a Black Capped Chickadee, as he has white eyebrows... just like me!

Facebook Finito

Well the novelty of broadcasting to friends who don't really care is over. To the handful of 50 or so friends that gave me some beautiful comments of care, humor, or encouragement... Thank you! I am still doing two of my three blogs, and if you really want to know what I'm up too, these are safe places to find out. My Snarker Barker has been laid to rest, as I was starting to wonder if  my snarking was creating a negativity that was causing me mental stress and self doubt. It could also be that menopause is in full swing and I'm a little crazy. My mood changes on a dime, I can laugh inappropriately and cry suddenly for no reason at all. I don't sleep well, but toss and turn all night entertaining the worst sort of waking nightmares. Melatonin does work... by putting the nighmarish thoughts back into the dreamworld. Either way I lose. I was getting up at all hours to find out who was interacting with my comments on  Facebook, and if no one was, I felt disappointed. Facebook was becoming another chore in my already over ambitious life, and so it got the boot. Today I worked all afternoon on one of my novels, completely uninterrupted by the allure of nosy snippets of other people's lives. I feel more at home in my home... and more at peace. 

Joy of Joys

I am the happiest woman on earth today! My beautiful daughter has made her announcement official, she is pregnant... and I am to be a grandmother. I knew it beforehand, as a child cannot keep a secret from a mother who has taken her through sleepless nights of hunger, potty training, peer pressure, puppy love, and marriage. Of course the initial complaints of tiredness and not feeling right seemed of some concern. But when she presented me with a perfect blood test profile and I looked in her soulful brown eyes... I guessed the inevitable. Moms know and see things no one else can fathom. But I kept her secret safe until she was ready to broadcast the wonderful news... no small feat for a mother's pride and glory. She came this morning with the picture of the baby in ultrasound... like a tiny little lima bean floating in a sea of dark. I kissed the picture and tried hard to keep my composure. My daughter will never fully realize the love I have for her, perhaps not until she takes that little babe in her arms and delivers its first kiss. Then there will be no going back, she will be smitten for life and every word uttered, every turn of inflection on the most beautiful face in the world will matter more than anything else. Not for years or decades... but for life. I know this to be true for her and as her new little being is growing within, nothing will interfere with my attention for her in one of life's greatest miracles. My dream for her is simply this... that her child will be as loved as she is by me... and grandma will be there to do her part as well!

Playtime at Point Pleasant

Yesterday in an attempt to get lost during another Open House with our Realtor, Gerry and I headed down the shore. It was a beautiful Spring Day with blue skies, blooming forsythia, and daffodils everywhere. When we reached our destination at Point Pleasant, we were surprised to see how crowded the beach and boardwalk were. We had our camera and thought we would take some quiet photos of the ocean and surroundings. We chose a spot near the shoreline, spread out our beach towels and proceeded to play in our own little worlds. Gerry started creating a "Stonehenge" of crusty sand flaps that graced the beach. I became intent on creating heads from the flaps, decorating the face with the tiniest stones and shells. My "man" is sticking his tongue out... truly juvenile! As we each worked in our own private world, the most curious thing happened around us. Little children from around the beach would wander over and start playing along side of us. Parents came rushing over to move the kids away from us, either because we looked too wacky with our playtime and cameras, or perhaps they just wanted to give us some privacy. The kids must have sensed our child-like mood and wanted to play too. It's unfortunate that we live in a world where strange adults have to be strangers. We laughed at our own creations and took some photos of each other, being careful not to point the camera in the direction of other people's children. Then we headed for the boardwalk to have a slice of pizza and share a coke. As we walked back to the car, my foot accidently kicked something that rolled in front of me. Hallelujah! It was a small beautifully colored and spiraled sea shell. I always manage to find a souvenir when I'm down the shore at the beach. It's amazing what a little playtime will do to lift the spirits and calm the restless soul.

Imagining Jupiter

Today as I scanned through the news I was struck by a story about the Great Red Spot that lurks over the planet Jupiter and how it is shrinking. The spot is actually a big storm with 400 mile an hour winds, that would probably keep all the gases that make up the planet in one heck of swirl. Add the the fact that the planet spins so fast that it's day is only 10 hours long, but it takes 12 years to move around the sun and it boggles the mind that this could be so. I was amused by one of the scientists who commented that at his first viewing in 1996, the Spot looked like a breakfast sausage, but now it appears to have been on a diet and is more eyeshaped. I appreciate some humor with my science. Every time they send a probe to the planet it gets sucked in the the winds and blasts apart. They keep sending them, like little boys who like to see stuff smashed. In their defense, the pictures from a distance are beautiful and astonishing. It looks like a big round easter egg that keeps changing colors. Well, this got my imagination stirred up, and as I thought about what kind of life made up of gases could exist there on that giant of a planet, I grabbed my camera to play. There was a messy coffee spill on the kitchen counter this morning, and so I used that as the basis for my visual speculation. As I uploaded it, the original image seemed to morph into something of a fluid pattern. Nice, but not what I was searching for. Then I started playing with the colors, highlights, saturations, and all the fancy settings that are so easily manipulated by an amateur on the edit software in iPhoto. It still wasn't matching my wildest dreams of a life on Jupiter. Next, I downloaded the picture and tried all the same manipulations in the mac arsenal of edit tools. This photo-manipulation is a great source of joy for me... it's like the scribble pictures I used to make with paper and crayons. When I finally reached a point where I could see a gaseous image of an eyed thing, a fish, a mountain, and a distant moon I called it a "take" and well... there it is!  Visions from Jupiter. My work is done. 

The Moon in Disarray

It's cold, it's dark, it's damp.... emoting a moldy mood.

The chill blanches the dreary bones, yes, April is the cruelest of month.

A promise of  bud, unyielding, as the crocus lies low in splay,

the shine of sun unsmiling, the moon is in disarray.

The night prowls on, the walker wakes

in words, from whispers spoken.

The day drones on with sordid bunches,

a torment from fictitious hunches.

Stick figures point and glow in dark,

mocking a dual of orb.

The glowing hand, outstretched to thee

will catch the moon and set her free.