reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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dried flowers. [kerri‘s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“may this house shelter your life. when you come in home here, may all the weight of the world fall from your shoulders. may your heart be tranquil here, blessed by peace the world cannot give.” (john o’donohue – for a new home – benedictus, a book of blessings)

back in the day – referencing the 80s and 90s or so – i used to have lots of dried flowers – everywhere. dried flowers and herbs and red peppers were definitely a thing then, part of the homey, country look – hung on any hook, any trellis, any door jamb you could access. it all felt comforting, smidges of beautiful, tiny respites from busy-ness.

there’s a moment in the movie my big fat greek wedding when ian miller tells toula portokalos that he remembers seeing her a previous time. she, who has had a bit of a self-makeover, says, i was going through a phase then. i was frump girl. in one of the best he’s-a-sweet-guy moments, ian responds kindly, i don’t remember frump girl, but i remember you. and you cannot help your heart from going pitter-patter and you just know what might happen….

well, i have gotten over the dried-flower-phase. though i loved it then – and completely embraced it – there are no dried flowers hanging around now. though, truth be told, i do have a few dried daisies from our wedding tied with jute and a little garden lavender posey gathered with string. oh…and the first rose d gave me. and i think there is some hydrangea drying (long-term) in the basement and maybe a few wildfield thistles in the sitting room sharing a vessel with a bit of pussywillow. oopsies. i might have been a bit off on the word “no” in “no dried flowers“…

perhaps I should yield on using absolutes.

moving on.

i am most definitely a fierce appreciator of dried flowers and wild weeds in the fields and meadows of our hikes and adore the textures and morphing shapes of them through the seasons. it is likely that we have already shared a thistle or two as our blog images, but – – – this one, this one counts too, i argue for its inclusion.

because of my propensity for hangingontothings – emotionally and in real life – it is quite amazing that all those -older- dried flowers made their way out of the house from the latest 80s and through the 90s. when you have lived in a house this long – 35 years – you know it will iterate through time. and you cannot hang on to all the vestiges of the last phase, no matter how splendid they are.

so now, here i am, not even sure what this post is about. this stunning in-fallow-stoking-up-energy thistle made me think of the dried-flower-phase, of things that – at some given time – made our home feel like our sanctuary. i suppose i might let you just try to connect the dots.

or you can just nod your head, roll your eyes and quietly support my stream of consciousness today.

*****

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

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

oh, tiny one. this little morsel of a being – a fuzzy caterpillar – at the bitter cold end of november. we watched to make sure it made its way – the rest of the way – across the trail and into the tousle of leaves on the side.

surely it was brave, this tiny one. surely, resourceful, for green leaves are no longer plentiful. surely, stalwart. surely, not here in the outer world much longer, as it will winter under decaying wood, this woolybear. a time in diapause.

but it didn’t seem concerned about all this. it just moseyed on, across the trail, unaware of our study of it, unaware of the photo shoot, unaware of the challenges that might befall it. it just powered on.

maybe that is the thing we now need to do – power on.

in whatever way it is we choose, on whatever path we take, just keep on keeping on – despite fear, despite the odds, hoping that our fuzziness will protect us from the predators.

and when the world we are in becomes harsh, we might just slip into a diapause of our own, seeking places of peace – to survive.

oh, tiny one of wisdom.

*****

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

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the point in the road. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it was a way cool moment of playing tourist.

here we are – in monument valley – at forrest gump point – the place where the infamous character forrest gump (from the movie of the same name) stops running, running, running.

we counted down the miles to forrest gump point – watching the gigantic rock formations – so recognizable from the movie – get closer and closer.

you could definitely tell where the spot was. there were cars pulled over and people standing in the middle of the two-lane highway. everyone was taking pictures and i overheard someone say, “i love being a tourist!”

i would echo that. it was an extraordinary point in the road.

reenacting even a moment from this impactful movie – full of lessons and positivity – could not be better timed. it was clear – out there in the middle of the desert – surrounded by carloads of strangers, laughter, people exchanging phones to photograph each other whether they were acquainted or not – that with inspiring, thoughtful, decent leadership, we – here in these united states – might all stand a chance to live together with common purpose, getting along.

but it was momentary – because that future must be with leadership based on decency, fairness, equality, love. it must be with leadership that values resilience, optimism, honesty. it must be with leadership that is absolutely based on and furthering the tenets of democracy.

and the truth of the matter is that we are standing at a place – a point in the road – where running – toward the future – toward goodness – upholding the rights of every american – aligned with morality and justice – could stop. read maga’s project 2025 or any snippet thereof.

what would that point be called?

*****

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

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the past, the present, the future. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

our daughter wrote, “it’s a hidden gem!” and i agree. we were grateful for her encouraging us to adventure here.

one of my favorite places, goblin valley state park in utah was a playground like no other. two artists – with active imaginations – we could have stayed there all day. this place – full of hoodoos and really interesting sandstone/siltstone formations engaged us, made us giggle, invited us to run about in delight, insisted we play.

we were invigorated – even in intense heat and unforgiving sun. even as we were there – even before we had to leave – we talked about coming back, to be with these sprites, enchanting stone babies.

we traveled to many national parks in our nine days all together. though we would hike to take photographs and explore sites a bit, our inclination to hike the narrows at zion remains a wish for another day, trails at bryce remain unseen. the hike right up to delicate arch at arches will have to wait and an attempt at crossing the grand canyon – rim to rim – or even riding down into the canyon didn’t make the cut – this time.

but goblin valley was another story. and the absolute charm of these goblins tugged at us – taunting us and enchanting us.

i sat down on one of these sandstone sculptures, tucked into its graceful shape – mystified by the sheer beauty of the valley. once again, i was but a tiny being, part of a much bigger whole.

this time – this time – i was touching the past, the present and the future…a sandstone deposit from 170 million years ago…this very day…and these magical hoodoos which would prevail long after i am gone.

*****

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

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

if you asked me to name one striking thing about our relationship, i would tell you that we are touchers. we hold hands, we walk arm in arm, we snuggle. there are exquisite moments like when he kisses the top of my head or unexpectedly rubs my shoulders.

this is not the stuff of the grandest passion of romance movies, but it is the stuff of grand passionate romance.

i will hold hands with this man anywhere, any time. for all time.

*****

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

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the grand way. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“burning sundown, colored autumn trees, mountain rivers, country livers put my mind at ease. and to realize such perfect harmonies, i’m standing in the dawn of a new day coming on and i’m looking for no tomorrow.” (john denver – in the grand way)

breck is turning. little by little we can see it. if it isn’t too stressed in a week or two, this aspen will be golden and its leaves will shimmer in the sun. breck is standing in the moment…tall, steadfast, perfect…in the dawn of a new day coming on.

i get that. after everything, every big and little thing that has happened over the last few years, i feel like i am – at last and finally – standing in the dawn – here, now – and looking for no tomorrow.

we are – in this sweet phase – doing right now. to be present in your present is, i think, a gift you give yourself. we sprint the rest of the time – striding, striding, sprinting, sprinting – to something we can’t necessarily qualify. we’ve all taken our turn doing this.

and, sitting in the mountain stream, we laid it all down. it floated off with the leaf bits floating past our old brown boots perched on slippery rocks in the middle of the flow. looking for no tomorrow.

breck is beautiful every day. so is this life.

we are – in the grand way.

*****

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

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buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly impact an artist whose work directly impacts you. xoxo


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sacred space between us. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“…let’s live like mountains: two worlds rooted together but each cutting its own shape into the changing sky…” (james a. pearson – the space between us)

the sacred space between us.

when david proposed – over a decade ago – he gave me two rings. identical in style, they had textural differences. both sterling silver, one had a textured band with a smooth round globe and the other a smooth band with a textured round globe. he spoke words to the effect that we each brought similarities and differences into this space we would now share. to him it – our marriage – was best represented by two different rings worn together, side by side.

in the years that have gone by, i have watched these two rings become more alike – time is wearing them down, has minimized the textural differences as this sacred space between us has grown. we mountains have rooted together – like aspen trees in a forest – and, standing next to each other, though we cut our own shapes into the sky, we are becoming a mountain range.

in the way that time carves lessons and learnings into our hearts and minds, time has gifted us with the fire and flow of good relationship – both – that rubber band of intimacy that holds tight and stretches and snaps back like a bungee cord – eager to find center once again. fusion and fission, elements of the canyoned valley we share between us. we hold it gently in our joined hands.

and i wonder if the rings will become so similar that the difference in textures will be impossible to see.

what i do know – no matter how texturally identical they are or become, they started as two and carry two worlds with them. we – like all in relationship – bring different gifts with us. these gifts of the other help us evolve – they add to our sedimentary bedrock.

it is my instinct to seek words of wisdom about this space – this sacred space – between us. the union, the adapting, the transitions, the growth, the times of storm and times of calm.

but, instead, i will just watch my rings. and as they wear and change, i’ll keep renewing our roots, grounding us in center somewhere between our mountains in a meadow of wildflowers under the sun.

*****

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

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

“garden??? what garden???” with a particularly-yellow pollen-nose and infinitely sweet amber eyes, he looked at us – after trouncing through our dear westneighbors’ ragweed garden – and insisted, “i didn’t go in the garden!”

oh, dogga.

every time he goes on errands with us, it is his ritual to jump out of the car and beeline down the driveway to the ragweed by the fence. every single time. we expect it. this time – afterwards – it was just a tad bit more obvious. there was evidence. and, even with his i-didn’t-do-it-i-didnt-eat-the-cookie-out-of-the-cookie-jar bright-eyed and happy expression, there was no denying it.

we laughed and told him, “you can’t fool us, doggle-dog.”

despite his best effort at gaslighting us into thinking he had not trampled the raggy ragweed, there was evidence to the contrary. and – facts are facts.

now, surfing in on the facts-are-facts wave, i suppose i could launch into an entire political diatribe about what is happening in this election climate – how, apparently, gaslighting attempts are successfully taking over the good brains of people – despite, well, facts. how treacherous it is to believe hook-line-and-sinker the maga stuff that’s out there, the conspiracy theories undermining good sense, the outrageous lies keeping everyone distracted and placing people now – and in the future of this country – in danger. it’s all in plain sight. and it’s insanity.

but yellow is yellow. and pollen is pollen. it is easily identifiable. it is what it is. and when you see it, you know that the dog has been in the garden. no doubt about it.

*****

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

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sink or swim. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

you don’t think much about the sink until the sink no longer behaves like a sink.

and in those moments, as you stare at the rising water line in the not-draining-sink, your heart does a little flip-flop-sink and you mentally list all the solutions you hope will quickly and thoroughly address the problem.

but in a house that is anxiously awaiting its centennial birthday party in ’28 this-old-house/handyman/reddit/my-dad’s-rube-goldberg solutions are unlikely fixes. even AI has trouble adequately addressing this…the plunger, hot water, baking soda and vinegar, salt water and one of those straight 99 cent barbed-edge snakes are not the thing.

so we called mike, plumber extraordinaire, who told us to call shane, drain extraordinaire.

sparing you the details of the kitchen sink drain blockage clean-out and the bathroom sink drain blockage clean-out, i will tell you that it felt like a small miracle to run the water in the sink and watch it go down the drain – as it is supposed to. there are days we are amazed by running water. and there are days we are amazed by sinks that drain the water running in them. these last days have been both.

the simplest things – addressed by people who really know their stuff – are back to being simplest things.

those moments david plunged and plunged and plunged, the moments we shook baking soda into the drain followed by vinegar – like a cool science experiment – the moments d laid on towels under the kitchen sink cabinet, bucket at the ready, undoing the j piping…they are – thankfully – fading into oblivion. this is good, as we are not the people who know their stuff when it comes to sinksanddrains.

there’s kind of a lesson here.

despite the fact that we always try to make it up – the solution – acting like we can articulate the problem and then – using good deductive reasoning and analysis (and google and youtube) – solve the problem – does not mean we will truly solve the problem. we may stave it off for a bit. we may make a tiny, barely discernible difference which boosts our high-fiving egos but solves nada. we may truly make the problem worse. it’s a wide spectrum of possibility and so many things can happen in that unhappy expanse of disaster potential.

the lesson, you remind me….

yes, the lesson is to give over to the people who know. that’s – indeed – why they know.

so, although it may seem a tad bit like overkill, i have to say that we are ever grateful to shane this week. every single time i run water in the bathroom sink – to brush my teeth or wash my face or my hands or in the kitchen sink for any of innumerable reasons – I think about his calm and measured demeanor and the fact that he – with quiet confidence – fixed it all.

and the simple thing – the job of sink – is back to being a simple thing. it is back to not being larger than life. it is back to being almost 100 and waiting for its birthday party just a few years down the road.

it’s funny how a misbehaving sink can run your life – instantly. all other priorities fall by the wayside as the water rises, rises. nothing else gets done. i’m guessing it just plumb wanted its fifteen minutes of fame, its time in the sun.

it’s a good thing we didn’t have to sink-or-swim on our own. we’d still be sink-ing.

*****

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

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

fall has cracked the door open. and, though it may tiptoe around a bit in this teeter-totter season, it will not backtrack. it is on its way.

and nature – in its wisdom – is doing the work, prepping for cold to arrive, stoking up, storing up, guarding its ability to survive, seed heads readying to spread far and wide.

she asked me if i would be recording again. I wasn’t sure how to answer. i don’t know. it has been some time since my last project. recording is expensive and – because of today’s world of streaming – not particularly financially rewarded, making it a kind of skewed investment…heavy on the cost, extraordinarily light on the payoff.

yet, every independent artist knows recording is not solely about the financial reward. it is the expression of what’s inside, just waiting to hit air. it’s doing the work, prepping, stoking, storing, guarding – all for the seed heads to fly.

she asked me other questions as well – how i compose, if i hear music inside. her questions cracked open the door to a conversation I haven’t had in a long time, a real conversation about my music. i felt grateful – not only for her inquisitiveness, but for her obvious support of what i have already produced. it was a sort of balm on a wound that was just lingering, lingering.

I don’t know when – or if – i will produce another album. i’ve teetered-tottered just like the waning of summer and the rising of fall, just like daisies struggling to stay vibrant, open, to stave off utter fallow. i’ve wondered through these last few years if, after fifteen albums, i was “done”, wondered if, at 65, i was no longer relevant, wondered if i still had the necessary chutzpah.

i miss the stage, a piano and a boom vocal mic, a wood apron beneath my boots. i’ve missed telling the stories of songs and the gestures of instrumental piano. i’ve missed eye contact with an audience, finding resonant bits, making people laugh or reminisce, the moment you know they are right there with you.

the daisy seed heads are getting ready. it’s pretty certain they will proliferate gardens again in the spring after their fallow through fall and winter.

maybe – somewhere in here – i am getting ready too. i guess we’ll see.

*****

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

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