windthread

for about a half hour,   then,   she'd had enough.   But now and then she invites herSelf.  is insistent.

Later        i come back.    I should say her full name.   Puppy Merced Hill.

i want to write about what it is,   B Garden,   what was lost,   it and me.   I thought this morning i could but then i'm here tonight and it's just not going to happen.   So…here.   these stones,  yesterday when i went down and sat there ,  long.   just the water flowing from  the hose that is finally flowing but still leaking,  still leaking……"everything" is gone…..but the stones.  and really, B Garden is

stones

like everything here is,   this Hill.   Rocks,  stones.  Granite      There's a term…top soil…..      There's really NO top soil here even though it is hundreds of years old.   ?????        i still   haven't     Taken the Time     to research Why

and i have taken  bucket and bucket of  scrap hay and Goat manure there ,   layered it on     to create     a     Garden.

Nisargadatta,  in the "blue book",   I Am That   told me years ago…..     Do  not cause.

i did not heed.   I caused.    and am on the brink of    causing again

an Email from Typepad Help Ticket     

"Our tech partner was able to guide us to a solution and in our testing rotating images after upload works again.  Can you confirm if it is working for you now?   Thanks, Laura"    YES   the two EASY STEPS.   Rotate.  Adjust contrast.     compared to     10 steps with the Phone that Alyssia taught me.    !!!  so Yes.   it is FIXED.    I am grateful to Typepad for  this.   in a world that seems to  demand change,   they found a way for me to rest easy in      EASE.     And…And…. I know now what i can do when it feels like the End of the World….i know now that phone fix.    So,  tonight….All is Well.

and as i drew more today ,   i understood the Mask to be a way for me to SEE   a     feeling.   and so to understand it more.  i am a visually oriented person

there is a lot of sorrow at B Garden.    ?   Is this true?

or,   that's the word i give it in these  moments.   Am letting it all move and settle,  move  and settle….what is mine?  What is the Garden?   How can i come to understand it all.    Would seem to be pretty simple but am not finding it so.

but what WAS simple…these 3 pomegranates.   dehydrated.  completely.   perfectly preserved.   but   Their colors are ALIVE

i think so?       

i needed to go to the Garden today.   Begin feeling the feelings i need to feel.     but…putting it off,  i picked up the pencil and 
this

the mask is afixed to a stick that has that glyph language written on it…the glyphs like in my childhood,  down by the creek,  where i'd find those sticks with those marks just under the bark  that to me were messages from  my "true people.  the Real People"   indians.    The message was always the same.    "it's ok.   Wait here.   We will come for you."    i've found those sticks everywhere i've lived.  Even in New Mex…in the forest up at Magdalena.    There's one on the table outside the door here.  

I'll come back to it maybe tomorrow.   See if i can make the hand that holds the stick.   See if  there's a sense of what i drew and why  i drew it.      I did go to the Garden.    I did imagine myself walking down there holding the stick with this mask.  

batteries in those little  "hand lamps"…. Light enough.   more than enough, really.   I love them