The Choice

The Choice

Counting back to that first glance, seconds and minutes,
hours and years, the desire and candor of bodies,
when  our days  became charged with the pace of lives lived.
Years of longing renounce the yearning to another,
no longer young. The clamor of  middle years
leaves  satisfaction and knowledge in its place,
a quietness whose heft outweighs the struggles.
Wisdom is as wisdom does, patience is its own reward,
love never fails, never. And this is the choice,
made and kept, to choose you now and at each sunrise.
Until the day comes that my hand is not recognizable to you
And  my laughter is silenced by your unknowing eyes.

— Kathleen G. Everett © 2012

The Cove in January

It is a bright January afternoon and the water reflects the blue of the sky. I hope that the picture shows you how really gorgeous it is today.

We went down to the waters edge. It is very windy and a little cool – but once we were out of the wind, it was very pleasant, even on the water.

We saw a heron fishing and a few fish in the shallows, so I am certain he will find a good dinner this evening!

This second picture shows a cyclone of midges. If you look closely, you will see little bits of something in the air. The sunlight is reflecting off the tiny wings of the midges.

We are already talking about the summer and having the boat out on the lake. So on this beautiful day in the course of our seasons, we are looking forward to coming seasons too.

The Last Really Good Shack 19

Well, we were in – actually living in this wonderful old house. Now there were many projects in front of us, but we were IN!
One of the most important items on our list was some place to put Bob’s tools and store the outdoor stuff. We needed a shed!
At this time, Bob was working for a glass fabricating plant and the glass was delivered to this plant in large wooden crates – all 2 x 4 and 2 x 6 and 8 and 10 feet long. So we are talking BIG crates. And this wood was just left for recycling. So ….. we recycled some – well, quite a lot actually.
First, we brought the crates home just to store the tools. Remember, the ridge at the back of the house had just been cut away, so with the rainy season setting in, it was pretty muddy. We put the crates against the house and that is where Bob’s tools were put and covered with tarps.
This has reminded me of a story – doesn’t have anything to do with the shed – but the crates. One afternoon, we heard the dogs barking their heads off out in the yard. When we went out to see what was going on, we noticed the tall grass on the path moving. And I swear the biggest snake I have ever seen was moving down the path toward the house! It was an enormous rat snake. And being a smart city girl, I had read that these particular snakes were good snakes, not poisonous, and would eat mice and other snakes. So I told Bob, just get something and shoo it away from the house. Bob picked up a shovel and pushed the snake to try a get it to turn around. Well, that did not deter the snake at all and it was picking up speed and heading towards the house. By this time, I am standing on one of the crates, yelling Bob, Bob, its coming to the house, don’t let it in the house! Bob pushed it one more time and it raised up like a dang cobra and struck at the shovel – ka ching! Well, that was it – the snake was put out of our misery. And when Bob picked it up with the shovel, holding it almost waist high, it dragged the ground, on each side. That was a BIG snake.
The rat snake population and the new inhabitants of the house (us) learned to live in peace. We would see a few now and again but never one as large. We would occasionally see copperheads too and would be very careful when working in the garden.  I learned to live with a lot of the wildlife in our little haven, but we will talk about those in later posts.
And I will get back to the shed too.

Until then…..

Altar of Lost Things

Altar of Lost Things

The keys that unlock
unknown locks and the button
from my winter coat,
motherhood and children,
and one brown sock,
a friendship untended,
an old house and a beloved father,
an umbrella left on the train,
my grandmother’s brooch,
a favorite book.

My list grows longer each year,
words and regrets,
written between the lines
and around the margins
until the page becomes
thin and tattered.

I leave the it on the altar,
light the candle,
the scent of rue and asphodel fill the air.

— Kathleen G. Everett © 2012



Marigolds always remind me of you,
I guess because you despised them so.
Were the flowers too ordinary or
their spicy fragrance offensive
to your superior senses?
Were their colors of yellow, orange, gold,
rust too garish for your discriminating taste?
Too bright, too gaudy, too common?
A lowly flower found in cheap seed packets
and blooming in less tasteful gardens,
their cheerful, happy countenance, a childish bouquet.

We were never the exquisite flower to place in your lapel,
marigolds and me.

— Kathleen G. Everett © 2012

You Bring Me Gifts of Stone

You Bring Me Gifts of Stone

A small white pebble
Smooth as a birds egg,
A rough dark rock
Its heart a crystal of quartz,
A flat rectangle of gravel
Striated with beaches
From eons ago,
You bring me gifts of stone.
Pebbles picked from the ground,
Bits of shiny rock that catch your eye,
Offerings from your day
To remind me of your heart,
Steady as stone.

— Kathleen G. Everett © 2012