Eliza Daley ~ Wordcraft & Musing on Home & Hope
June! The month of weddings and graduations, strawberries and roses. Lavender and thyme come into bloom and lemonade stands blossom around the neighborhood. But mostly it is a month of slack. This is a between time. Planting time is winding down but harvest is not yet winding up. School is out but summer programs haven’t… Continue reading Summer Reading
There is such a thing as honor. We denizens of a world much debased and disdainful often forget the word. But ought we? For it still thrives, thrives despite disregard. Honor impeached can stir even the most jaded heart to irrational revenge. Yes, even in this post-modern, ultra-civilized world. And we, voyeurs, stare gape-mouthed in… Continue reading Honor
This is something I've had around for a long time. I'd like it to be a picture book some day. As I have little else in my head right now (other than "ouch" — what with new gardens and box cutters and a number of other stressors) I thought I might share this with you.… Continue reading A Children’s Story
I planted apple trees today. They arrived a couple weeks before we were to move. I had ordered them last summer and forgotten about them entirely. However, I had no intention of putting them in the ground that would soon be yet another past garden. Not least because I didn’t have time to do that.… Continue reading How To Start Over
The seventh moon of the year is the Flower Moon, or the Faerie Moon. It is new between 23 April and 21 May. It is full between 7 May and 4 June. This is the time of riotous blossom and rainbow color splashed everywhere. You can cut vases of fresh flowers every morning and still… Continue reading The May Blood Moon
i remember. the smell of water on dust. the sound of birdsong in the soft morning light. the chiaroscuro texture of resin beads on juniper needles. i remember walking. walking. walking. mama at my side. i remember heat. and death. i remember the lost. i remember coming to this place. it’s been seven decades by… Continue reading Memory (Winifred Mumbles)
I'm still absorbed in nesting... and nursing my abused hands... because rheumatoid arthritis does not do curtain hardware in rock maple without intense retribution. So here is a bit of poetry... of sorts. free from words solitary is alone. alone is one. solitary is one. but one is not necessarily solitary. i often wish i… Continue reading Poetry
I wrote this in 2017. It is still depressingly relevant. And ever more urgent. Science is not a debate. It is not a conversation between opposing points of view. It is not a balanced discussion of belief systems. Science is the refinement of factual knowledge through the application of reproducible observation and experimentation. Opinion and… Continue reading On the Myth of Debatable Science
It might have gone this way. If we'd not burned up all the leftover dinosaurs and tree ferns, it might be about time for this inter-glacial period to end. Imagine climate change without fossil fuels. It began with a few cold summers. The early ones were written off to variously benign causes. Volcanic eruptions. Changing… Continue reading Collision: The Alternative
I am not going. Get that through your stubborn head! Deirdre closed the door — gently — turned her back to it and slid to the floor. She wished, not for the first time, that just once she’d have the pluck to speak her mind. Just once she’d like to not feel like a timid… Continue reading Collision: Some Are Chosen
