reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: fallow


by 1 Comment

the hallway. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

and in her waking-up, in the tease of spring, in the liminal space between seasons, mother earth offers up her flowers. it’s a tiny posy of possibility, an olive branch extended to stave off impatience as we pine for warmer days, for everything to green up. and, in this waiting zone, these dried flowers spur our imagination, carry us forward.

it’s the interim times – the periods in-between – the time spent in the hallway before the next door opens – these are the reluctant times. we are reluctant to sit in the hall. we are reluctant to wait and see. we are reluctant to accept a zone of time sans shape. we think it all – the minutes and seconds, hours and years – needs definition. we are reluctant to be still. we don’t understand what feels like a screeching halt. we yearn to move, yet we are frozen in fallow.

but we are morphing. we are beautiful winter nosegays tucked into mason jars. we are march and april. we are stoking up. we are no less beautiful than verdant june and july. we are just different.

and for this time – we are somewhat rustic, somewhat fragile. we are color-muted now to be opulent later. we are the quiet before the fortissimo, meek before rackety. we are simply waiting.

we read the same paragraph over and over again, listen to the same strains of music time and again, sit and pace and sit and pace. we are the dried wildflowers, the straining buds, the transitional space, the interlude. we are the hallway.

and then.

*****

UNTITLED INTERLUDE from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

listen on iHEART radio

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website tip-jar where you may choose to help support the continuing creating of artists whose work is meaningful to you. 💛


by 1 Comment

the daffodil told us. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

and suddenly, there – in the midst of dried fallen leaves and fallowed underbrush, trees not yet ready to bud – there – there it was.

and it was simply in seeing it – the daffodil – that hope was evident. next is evident. tomorrow is evident.

anything right now will soon be before. the daffodil told us.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2024 kerrianddavid.com

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website tip-jar where you may choose to support the continuing creating of artists whose work touches you in some meaningful way. 💗


by 1 Comment

watched pots. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

the signs are everywhere now.

birds are singing at the crack of dawn outside our open-at-least-a-slit window. the bunny is out and about in the backyard and there is a new softly-padded divot under the ornamental grasses where she made her nest last year. bulbs are sprouting and the postal delivery folks are starting to wear shorts. it will soon be spring in wisconsin.

it is tempting to go outside and trim back the grasses, rake all the debris from the gardens, pare down the sedum. to unplug the gutter warming cables, to put away the snow shovels right outside the back door, to drain, clean and refill the pond, to bring out the table and chairs, to consider much-needed replacement rugs for the deck. it is tempting to get ready.

but that would be premature.

and, ultimately, we know better.

so we will wait.

patience – at this time of year – with the sun shining and temperatures ranging from the twenties to the sixties – is most definitely hard to come by. we just have to stoke up and be zen in this liminal time.

but all good things do come in time. and eventually, it all plays out. even if it doesn’t really look that way. what’s that expression…? a watched pot never boils.

and waiting is hard.

but i have watched pots in my life.

and i know – for a fact – that – eventually – they do boil.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website with a tip-jar where you may choose to support the continuing creating of artists whose work resonates with you. ❤️


by 1 Comment

decorated. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it would appear that nature is decorating for the holiday season. even in the browns and tans and greys of the fallow, color bursts out at us. it’s stunning. the honeysuckle is unmoved though – it is standard fare in the winter to be berried. we, however, stop to appreciate it.

we decorated early this year. right around thanksgiving we put up our eileen-tree (which we named “e.e.”), pulled out the mini-trees i love to place everywhere, added twinkling white lights and silver ornaments. there are snowflakes and pinecones from the forest floor and heartfilled nods to my children-in-younger-days and my scandinavian heritage. we unearthed the boxes of vintage glass ornaments and shiny brites from my sweet momma and poppo and placed those ever-so-gently on the happy-light-lit big branches we now have year-round in the living room. it looks like christmas.

each day goes by faster now it seems. and then it’s friday again. i’m not sure where the time goes. as we make our holiday cards and a few handmade gifts to send out, george winston’s december is on repeat – the quiet of this album is speaking to us this season. bombastic christmas or vocal-gymnastic-laden carols seem like too much noise. restraint seems more in line with our spirits. more serenity.

there are many festivities to choose from – out there. we thought about a concert or two and lingered back. we thought about a holiday festival or two and lingered back. we thought about stores and crowds and lingered back. we will finish making our cards and creations and do a bit of boutique shopping. we may make a cookie or two. the krumkake of ages past nudges us and sip and feast taunts us with a long island italian almond cookie (gluten-free). we sit under blankets in a darkened living room – lit only by happylights. we savor the sparkle. we sit in content silence, we tell stories of past holidays – wistful, tearing up, laughing, lost in memories and hopes for future holidays.

and there is the woods.

whenever we can, we take time out there. the forest reminds us of both the everpresence and the evanescence of it all. it reminds us of the passing of time, the changing of seasons, adjusting to harsh circumstances and it reminds us of the rejuvenation and renewal of spring. we know that beyond the cold and frozen, there will be warmth. it’s all fluid and some things – like transition – are certain. there is silent wisdom – of the ages – you can feel as you place your feet – emanating from the dirt of the trail.

it is no wonder that nature has already decorated – with quiet fervor and vivid color – for the holidays.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a tip-jar website where you may help support the continuing creating of artists whose work you value. xoxo


by 1 Comment

it ain’t heavy. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“… the road is long
with many a winding turn
that leads us to who knows where, who knows where
but i’m strong
strong enough to carry him
he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

… so on we go
his welfare is of my concern
no burden is he to bear
we’ll get there

… for i know
we would not encumber me
we ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

… if I’m laden at all
i’m laden with sadness
that everyone’s heart
isn’t filled with the gladness
of love for one another

… it’s a long, long road
from which there is no return
while we’re on the way to there
why not share?

… and the load
doesn’t weigh me down at all
he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

… he’s my brother
he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother
he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

(bob russell / bobby scott – he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother)

queen anne’s lace does not bow down under the weight of the snow. it stands – upright – proudly holding what looks like a single-scoop of snowfall. despite the wind, despite the force of gravity – queen anne’s lace bears the burden, singing along with the hollies “and the load doesn’t weigh me down at all…..”

we have a thing or two to learn from nature. long roads, winding turns, shared concern for welfare, love for one another.

we are witness to miracle after miracle out here. they are tiny; they are vast. we stand at the wayside of nature’s rest area – in the fallow that is late autumn and early winter – and we watch as the journey of the woods marches on. working side by side, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, the forest and its inhabitants are thrust onto the long cold road ahead, eventually seeking spring. the ecosystem is symbiotic and nothing is encumbered more than the next. even in any not-knowing, critters and plants and trees alike trudge on, sans complaint. they carry with them the exchange of energy and the work of the fallow. they are strong. and it ain’t heavy. they are brothers-sisters together.

and they are waiting for us – the humans – to catch up to their simple wisdom.

*****

WAITING from JOY! A CHRISTMAS ALBUM ©️ 2005 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

listen on iHEART radio

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you so much. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a tip-jar website where you may help support the continuing creating of artists whose work you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


by 1 Comment

this side of the corn. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

fall is coming on. there is no denying it. everything is starting to wane.

the sky is starting to gray. the corn will be soon plowed under and, one of these days, the cabbage fields will have to turn over, the yield from their crop slowed to a stop. the colors are changing.

george winston recorded an album called autumn. you listen inside his wistfulness as he toys with the emotions of the changing. the album was released in 1980 and, for me, that was a distinct time of heading into fallow.

some fallows last longer than the seasons and the tilted axis of the earth seems to evade warming sunlight. the seeds gather strength in the ground – centered in us, even without us nourishing them. and eventually, ever-so-slowly sometimes, the earth tilts back toward the sun and the orbital horizon is rebirth, spring.

it seems to happen fast – the waning. the ebb and flow of the cold. there is nothing as constant as change and, so, we need remember that in times of fallow. the tide – like the corn and the cabbage – will come and go, come and go. an ancient story.

we join hands with others on our path – they are quite possibly on the same ebb and quite possibly will be in the flow with us as well. they stand with us, they encourage us, they surprise us. the shapes of others appear – like revelations – from out of the mist of our fixed frame of reference. everything looks different.

standing on this side of the corn, gazing into the grayness of sky, the dance of color as it fades, i am finding – with much gratitude – that there are others standing right there with me, gazing as well. the wistful tugs at us; gravitational effect far from the sun but with promise of the pull. we stand still, roots under our feet, steadfastly hand-holding, looking at the horizon as it shifts.

and time passes and the seasons flow and flow and, eventually, the axis finally – at long last – tilts and the fallow ends and the seeds that were planted so long ago break through the frozen ground and we know that we have – together – affected even the tiniest change.

and winter comes as we stoke up, readying ourselves for the riches of spring.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

FLOATING acrylic 48″x24″

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you again and again. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a donation website where you may “tip” the artists you love which will help them continue to create the work you value. xoxo


by 1 Comment

not done yet. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it was nothing short of stunning.

in the juxtaposition of october’s start and summer’s last grasp – up north – we were the recipients of the gift of a subtle duality, the gift of liminal space as the seasons shift and morph into the next: summer falling away and autumn rising.

i am a fall-girl and october is my favorite month. way back when – when color and season analysis was a thing – i was told i was autumn. but i already knew it. and now – in what is defined as the autumn of my life – i find myself looking back so as to look forward, to go forward. sometimes this is with great intention, sometimes it is not at all deliberate.

i stumbled across a video the other day. i was googling a youtube of one of my recordings. second up on the googlelist was a video i had never seen. from 1996, shot and edited by a videographer, this was posted recently as a memorial to him and is a 25 minute snippet of a full-length concert i had played at uw-parkside’s auditorium. i released two CDs that night, my second and third…a dozen albums and so, so many concerts and stages ago.

i pushed the play button.

there are days you wonder where the time has gone, how summer has turned to fall and fall to winter. time has rushed by and, in its fleetingness, you have left behind profound moments, defining moments.

watching this video became one of them. watching this video reminded me.

my straight-bangs-wrinkleless-eye-shadowed face was in her element. i could feeel it.

maybe – in the autumn of my life – in the liminal space of relevant-not-relevant, of summer-fall, of falling away-rising – i’m not quite done yet.

*****

snippets from 1996 CONCERT at UW-PARKSIDE – releasing BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL & THE LIGHTS CDs (a memorial post on YouTube to videographer Harry Stoetzel)

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

listen on iHEART radio

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a donation website where you may help support the continuing creating by artists you value. thank you for your sincere consideration. xoxo


by 1 Comment

peonies in perpetuity. [d.r. thursday]

the time for our peonies has passed. they have been momentary, ephemeral. yet, even in their briefest of moments, their impact has been profound. their sweet fragrance wafted through the backyard, their stunning pink punctuated the green of the garden, their blossoms – from bud to full bloom – have been enchanting. and now, the green remains. i understand the plant is in full working mode – storing up energy for the next season of blooms. i already can’t wait to see them.

we planted a small herb garden on our potting stand this past weekend. basil, rosemary, mint, parsley. we added one dwarf indeterminate cherry tomato plant. and we placed a potted citronella on the deck. there is something infinitely satisfying about going outside with kitchen scissors to snip off the herb i need for a recipe. caprese salads or skewers, mint tea, parsley because heidi’s mom said everything is lifted with a little parsley, and rosemary – it reminds me of the brunch we had one day a couple years ago on the porch of the gingerbread house bistro up west of milwaukee. we split a steak seasoned with rosemary – i can still taste this delight. i’ll be using the rosemary today with roasted baby potatoes. all from steps away, an extension off our patio.

i wrote the album this part of the journey in 1997. piano-based instrumentals, a few of the pieces on that album had their moment on adult contemporary radio. and then, like all good peonies, they faded a bit, stoking up energy in the plant for next. but as i pull up the album and listen – last i saw you, the way home, good moments – i can still hear the pink, can still feel the peaceful wafting, can grasp its relevance. i still hear about this album from people out-there listening. it’s steps away from now, but it’s on an extension of the patio of my discography.

instrumental music – like peonies – has no half-life. both evoke emotional reactions – visceral reactions – both are steadfast in their passive zeal to just be. both wrap one in the right now. both go on.

i suppose, in a rare moment, i might one day put this album – or as it is – or any of my instrumental albums – on the cd player. i might sit down in an adirondack chair next to the peony within the concentric scent-circle of mint and basil, and simply listen.

i might be reminded of the moments in composition, the moments in practice, the moments in recording, the moments in concert.

and i might be able to see the peonies that will surely arrive next season.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

visit DAVID’S gallery site – under construction…

QR or this link if you would like to help us keep this content going – and thank you so much.


by 1 Comment

in the great pause. [k.s. friday]

in the great pause we are experiencing, things have risen to the top.

they are the cardinals on the fence, the house finch sipping from the dogdish, the hummingbird at the feeder, dogga sleeping on the deck, the smell of sauteing onions and garlic, ice water in a glass, the sun rising out the sunroom window, the play of first light on our quilt, the sound of the trail under our feet, the mayapple flowers tucked in and peeking out from the canopy, the piney scent through the stand, the repeating arvo pärt on the cd player, photographs, the gurgling pond out back, bunbun and the chippies, glass doorknobs, the basil plant on the potting stand, the first coffee, a hot shower, lavender soap, open windows, butterflies, five-year-aged cheddar and sips of wine, writing next to each other, repeated ritual touchstones in our week, unrushed hugs, the squirrel highway, the sound of a text on the phone, anticipation, generosities, idiosyncrasies, the peonies, sunny days of little humidity, the feel of old wood floors under bare feet, hagstones, smooth worry rocks tucked in our pockets.

and with these things of absolute greatness, we slow down and – in the way of centripetal forces spinning, spinning, around, around – we center. and wait.

“this is the time to be slow,

lie low to the wall

until the bitter weather passes.

try, as best you can, not to let

the wire brush of doubt

scrape from your heart

all sense of yourself

and your hesitant light.

if you remain generous,

time will come good;

and you will find your feet

again on fresh pastures of promise

where the air will be kind

and blushed with beginning.”

(john o’donohue – to bless the space between us)

*****

taking stock ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA
listen on iHEART radio

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

this link & qr code will take you to a virtual “tip jar” if you wish to support our content creation xoxo







by 1 Comment

surely panting. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

and today – despite the dirt and the dried stems, vestiges of life-gone-past – despite the cold and the snow and the ice and the rain and all the elements that have torn into this plant and the critters that have refuged under its branches – despite the sun and the drought and no added nutrients and almost no attention whatsoever – small clusters of brassica-like buds have sprouted out of the ground.

they have persevered, they have sought rebirth, they have wiped away their tears of disappearance and their underground fallow and they have risen up, one tiny millimeter at a time, unnoticed until now, shoots of green in all the brown.

they have not been considered marvelous. they are not rare. they are not exquisite blooms, fragile petals, filmy tendrils connecting them to their lifesource. instead, they are curled cabbages, tightly wound and unwinding.

they are a little bit haughty at the spring and its sweet-time-taking. they are persistent, resilience at their core, hardy, paying no mind to the rules of march or april or, really, any season. they wait for no one to move the leaves and debris of winter. they are independent.

this new year of growth, this new season of their sedum-lives is pushing out of the good earth – despite all odds. they keep on keeping on, mustering up next and next, pushing aside all doubt, surely panting in their phoenix.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY