reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: the elements


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rusted. but still. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the galvanized metal coneflower tucked into the little garden with the ornamental grasses has rusted. we brought it home in july when it was silver and shiny. but the elements of weather have already gotten to it and have erased the shiny and smooth, turning it to a rougher texture, a warm brown color, like the center of a sunflower or the color of freshly ground coffee.

i still love it though, this coneflower.

its shape has been inspiring out back there in its little garden – the same garden that protects baby bunnies and tucks in our aspen tree. in the snow it has collected flakes until barely any of the metal is visible – like a tall snow-mushroom umbrella-ing anything below.

i stop in front of the mirror before i facetime or zoom. i wonder how i am seen from the other side of the camera. i am no longer shiny or silver. the elements have taken their toll and age has begun to catch up.

but as i gaze at other beloved faces across the technology of a phone or computer, across a table or on a trail, next to me on the pillow – i know that nothing – no amount of rust or erasure of smooth – can change the fact that they are still coneflowers, nonetheless. still beautiful. still loved.

*****

happy birthday, my love. ❤️

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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we are naked trees. [two artists tuesday]

it is entirely and utterly exfoliated. delaminated. naked.

the slender tree stands alone in the marshland, like a graceful ballerina in allongé. barely a side branch, it is stunning against a blue blue sky.

and, yet, in all its raw nakedness, its vulnerability, it stands proudly, stalwart, determined. it is still alive.

we stand next to our canvases, in front of microphones, in recording studios, on wooden stages, at qwerty keyboards, poised in front of 88 keys, with ballet shoes or tap shoes or jazz shoes, behind the cine-camera, in front of the cine-camera, at the potter’s wheel, baton in hand, holding sculpting tools or playscripts, focusing lens and aperture, holding written words in our fingers.

we are naked trees in the marsh. we stand – vulnerable to the elements – unprotected. we brave lack. we brave abundance. we withstand the inbetween.

we are exfoliated every single time we put it out there. we are artists.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY