Sunflowers, Daisies and Other Happy Things!

Sing into the crook          

The place you see, where sky meets sea, & earth, that’s the place you sing into. Sing into the crook with all that is within, sing your heart, your soul, your life…right there, where sky meets sea & earth.

~J~moonmango                     8/5/12

Inspirational thanks, and or otherwise mention of gratuitive sorts goes to David Pearson who taught me to breath, sing out my breath, sing into the crook, and know my song! 

Where the sky meets the sea, Julie & Hermano Friendly Cove

Driftwood Dog

 It seems there is a mutant strain of loveliness going on in my garden!

Double Header

 

Two Headed Daisy

Tears become like extraneous wet spots on a two headed daisy, bent & broken at the stem…by the painted pony that parked itself there…crushing the plants lush body, breaking, bending and stripping the stems of it’s supple leaves.

Loveliness of the flower with it’s duo bursts of delicate fingers reaching outwards even in the mutated form of a two headed monster ~ shows the decomposed compost rotting & smelly turned into black gold. Good and evil, they co-exist, one transforming into the other depending on the path chosen ~ and how it is traveled.  

What does one do with a two headed daisy with a broken stem? Kiss it sweetly, shed a tear for the kindness in the firmness that must be shown for the love, yes for the love of self, the love of those who are us all. Mutated just a bit, each of us a two headed daisy,  with extraneous wet spots.

Cut the stem up high, leaving what’s broken, to wither with the crushed organic matter that was. Take a photo, and place it in a jar of water, with the other broken daisies after all, it’s not the broken plant, the table where good memories were formed, or the blue horse that one day you rode in on.

It’s the lightening in the storm, the thunder that follows so quickly behind…shaking the daisy with threats to strike and burn through all that extends into the earth. It’s the raindrops that lightly sprinkle on a blue moon eve. Leaving wet spots on a two headed daisy, extraneous wet spots, on a two headed daisy… after all~ after all?

~J~moonmango                                              8/3/12

Human Nature

Never does a day pass when I fail to be amazed, amused and utterly in awe of human nature. Not just the children, growing and learning so quickly with their honest tongues ~ speaking without hindered restraint of self conscious societal chains. All of us, yes all of us.

Expecting the unexpected has become a mindset that puts me to bed at night wondering, and wakes me anticipating the day. Days such as this...I am floored, flat as the French pancakes my Grandmother cooked up while saying "eat all your mush first". Flat.

 Blow sweetly breezes warming as the day moves on. Blow the wonder of dandelion puff, a star unseen, the drop of water in the falls, the whisper unheard. Blow sweetly breezes, carry to my heart, all that I can't imagine & blanket my soul.

~J~moonmango                             8/6/12 

This makes me so happy!

Forming Committees

Monetary recompenses so to speak, don’t seem to have a place right now.  We live, we love, we get through our trials, allowing each other to be ourselves, forming committees only in our minds, never expecting attendance or participation…well, maybe sometimes before rethinking, but there we have it, we help each other to stretch, like rubber bands becoming brittle with age and weather, but never breaking. Not yet.

~J~moonmango                 8/1/12

Inspirational credit to Ruth Smiley for her ideas and intangibly intriguing thoughts that she transforms into tangible acts. This piece spurted out in a letter, but alone is a poem.

 

Loosing Your Paddle

You’re paddling up that creek again, the one you know so well…one with the thick brown water & that real ugly smell.

It’s ok. You’ve been here before…you know the way. It’s a hard bout, but somewhere it opens up, leads right on out

Sooner or later it’s free sailing in open seas, hoist the sails over the swells and just…catch the breeze

Ore slips from your fingers, …you remember now, it happens this way, you don’t know why, don’t know how

You reach, you grab - ore bobbing free in the murk, , a motor boat goes by making waves that give it a jerk

Further and further from your desperation that ore floats…all of a sudden you’re just happy ~ happy to be in the boat.

Then you remember it happened before,  the way it must go. Look, look ahead…Moby Dick soon will blow!

A sputter, a blow, a mighty wind the great whale does make, causing turmoil and truly…one hell of a wake!

Holding on tightly as you’ve learned so to do…the boat you hang onto blasts from that creek full of poo

Out to sea the boat, the ore & you all go sailing…hanging on tightly, wind & sea in your face all the while flailing

“Hallelujah, Hallelujah I’m bloody well out! I’ve made it, I’ve made it Hallelujah, Hallelujah ” you joyfully shout!

The paddle hits you on the head…BAM & you’re out.

~J~moonmango                                   7/25/12

 

Observing myself

A slight head duck, glance from the side, smile a bit to the left of hello & goodbye. I watched it from outside myself, it took me by surprise, like watching a movie… someone else in disguise.

Someone showed me, I didn’t mean to step out, but there I was standing just a tad above and to the left…observing myself.

This person who is Me, was doing a thing… she’s done for years ^ right under my nose. I never saw, wondered why the trouble…now I know, the trouble is myself~ stirring the pot.

Traitor to myself, always screaming “why?” how could I be angry, she just perfected an art, something she could produce, with no effort at all ~

…leaving the flounder gasping on the shore ~

Who is me and who is she? Am I the watched, or the observing fool? How do I not love someone so beautiful, but how do I love what I don’t really know?

Standing there outside myself, I wonder how it works…can I  just go through life, observing, while i carry the burdens, be the watcher, not feel the pain, the joy, just observe?

Fascinated with the person I find most tedious,.. Do others see me as I saw myself that moment, not as I do from inside my own tired flesh?

Laying down with the moon, but wakening with the rain watching me, watching me, dancing with the stars…never alone, dancing, dancing with the stars…observing… that…which is ~ Myself…

Observing….

   

                           ~Myself~

                                                                                7/30/12 ~J~moonmango    

Lacking Pigment

 This stretch of time has held many in the affects of the Transit of Venus. For this vivid dreamer, it has produced visions & dreams lacking pigment, a bit crystal like...intangible & not my own.

My Heritage

 A trip to the East Side of the Sierras with my friend NanO drew me to embrace my heritage and for the first time in my life, defaced a tree, adding to the Basque tradition of tree porn on the Eastern Side of the sierras. Note the interesting placement of a spiders egg sack in the old carving that I incorporated into my new one.

The Holy Dove Has Flown

The ups and downs of life that seemingly should even out by the age of 51, have proven to have sharp curves and rocky slopes. Hang on for dear life, then brake at the cliffs. Life would be smoother & easier were I a more practical sort, seeking stability and evenness. Subtle head strongness can be exhausting for an old Grandma, but a sit with a dear friend reminds me that even exhaustion can be transformed through art (never close yourself to what a friend may offer at the most unexpected moment).   Plowing through each obstetrical like a mule in a corn field full of rocks seems to be necessity for some. How else can you ever plant a crop that thrives? Right now...my best crop is Purslane!  

Learning my camera (the technical parts of it) is a must for me at this point as well as pursuing an opportunity to write a children's book with an artist who would make a perfect match as the illustrator.  Of course there are rocks to be moved. This post is the beginning of  major excavation in hopes, no, intent on plowing through the block that is, was, can no longer be the granite stone in my row. I suppose being a daughter of a Farmer from Chualar/ photo journalist/ English professor has a bit to do with my analogies here.     

Some recent poems & photos of nice times spattered about this post as well as perhaps bits more of my blatherings. I hope intend this post to be a milestone in the waters of uncertainly which seem to wash over my life. 

The rock (moved it myself)

The hard place (what drove me to move it)

_{Pains Whisper}

_{Soaking in like rain on sphagnum moss ~ your love for me}

_{Rolling off like rain on a ducks back ~ my love for you}

_{Beauty beyond a fairy’s lucid dream, the pain you pour forth}

_{Never had I known…the loveliness that blossom’s from pain.}

_{Must this spiraling inferno posses me so ~ breathlessly?}

_{Could the wind never cease to blow ~ so hot, so slow ?}

_{Slain was the dragon who blew the windy fire from below}

_{The dragons den…bones, whimsical chimes, snow & rain}

Clinging to loves sweet supple fruit ~ mangos ~ ripe to squeeze

_{A slipper, comfortable, warm, dependable ~ tossed out the door}

_{The wrens drop on it a spat with seeds…  Spring’s Clarkia}

_{Place the heart of the dove in the Dragon’s den, gently as she came}

_{Lay me down in a field of blooming mallow ~ color my cheeks}         

_{Press me like the field poppy flattened in the book ~ of my youth}

_{Honey so sweet in the morning, laying in my bed, forming crystals -}

_{what sparkle  all around, gently stroking, gently stroking…the flame}

 _{Breath of life, sorrows blessed curse ~ weigh upon the moth}

_{White as down in a wood nymphs bundle ~ yet it does glow}

_{Softly the whisper states all that stirs in this suffering heart}

 _{Parching all that wafts along, coming close, resting from pain}

_{Vacant light, transcends the orb quieting the Universe ~ a grain}

_{Sand as far as the mirage deceives, or perceives ~ a whisper}

_{Softly, softly the whisper that sweetens the morning with light}        

_{Whisper softly, whisper softly, 
                                    whisper, whisper…whisper…softly}

             
 _{~J~moonmango      7/9/12}

Well, it aint' gonna get any better after all...

Azure on flower Burts Canyon

Camping at Obsidian
Campgrounds on the East Side
with NanO was a great way to spend the 4th of July. Hardly a soul in sight except the bear that ate our apples & the 20 odd baby grouse at our feet, many birds & bugs. 

An apple would be nice now...

Where you hang your hat...

Loveliness

Rough life~

Tight Aster

 The petals of a flower wild ~ friendships sweet blanket ~ a cloak ~ a crown ~ a throne

Hardly A Morning…

Hardly a morning passes when the sun does not greet the moon in passing upon my breast from gentle star lit darkness to warming light.

On occasion, the suns crepuscular rays brush lightly upon my back as I wake…colliding warmth & coolness into electric thunder; awakening every cell to ecstatic bliss.

The times when morning comes slowly, lingering upon its horizon, seem most precious somehow. Morning waking with tenderness and cool breezes which stir deep within, subside, then stir again what lies patiently anticipating~ anticipating~ anticipating…the day?

Silver crescent moon & bright planets bowing and backing away, making way for the suns light * these days and nights of the Universe transitioning, reek mayhem and ravage every sense upon my rising.

All this, only to leave me weary, then rise up in calamity once again…again, weary, rising up in calamity ~  once again…

When silver orb & golden ball of fiery light forget each other at times, the wakening to the stars and crisp air stir me cognizant from unconsciousness, kindle and revive ~ that which lay lull in zoetic light of moon.

Lingering days stretching long keep warm the moons time… allow morning sun rays to caress uncovered flesh, gifting it such with pleasant glow, like fine beach sand ~ slowly sifting ~ through a child’s fingers to sprinkle a freshly formed castle. Moon & Sun intertwining in silky warmth … spreading out along a river of stars & clouds  

Hardly a morning passes when the sun and the moon upon my waking breast does not set the tone of anticipation of the new day. A Union of cosmic syrup; like honey & molasses coat and run down, blanketing that which lie exposed.

Hardly a morning….

                              Hardly a morning passes~

                                                                Precipitating …anticipating…

                                                                                                             Hardly a morning~

~J~moonmango            7/16/12

 A trek part way to Jackass Lake with Lori & her pooches was beautiful and made me realize how much my health has taken a dive this past couple years. Time to push!
 This time of year is magic. The garden is bringing forth bounty, the fledglings are fledgling, music begins in town and the whole community comes alive. How truly blessed I am to live life in my backyard.

Tiger Lily

log dogs

Follow the signs...

Lori & her worship team.

This post, like the others is to share with you the leg of the journey I bumble through at the moment. Each stretch would have me crippled & unable to carry on if not for that which hold me in a palm and each family member & friend in these posts. If you are reading this...you are in these posts. In between each line is everyone who impacts my life.  Funny how we can make a difference without even knowing. A friend posting the right thing at the right time to encourage...how could he know? An old friend...who just knows... Family, always family... An elderly gentleman I cleaned for yesterday impacted my life hugely and may never know how much. In the two hours I cleaned, and the 20 minutes I spent after he took my hand and said "sit with me a minute" he taught me how to sing into the crook, dance on the  kitchen floor, hear lovely music, laugh at all that is simple, drink good wine, and settle for no less than I deserve. All this applying in all ways to every aspect of life. The morning began with "you look especially nice today...why is that?" So much to learn, so much you all teach me, so much to be grateful for.

Taming The Beast within us all

Dogwoods in Yosemite in front of stone house.

Each day's different, every day's new...

This part of the good morning welcome song for preschool has become almost a mantra for me since the stirring of a pot of potpourri called my life a couple years ago. Yesterday, I wouldn't have dreamed that  I would be sitting today on my porch, cool breeze blowing up, the smell of apricot cobbler wafting out from inside, spitting cherry seeds off the rail while my colorful laundry waves gently in the breeze spending time writing. Just writing. 

Yesterday I had a full work day scheduled, no cherries & no apricots & dirty laundry. Apparently I do my job well. My morning cleaning cancelled for this week because the house is still pretty clean! That's with  2 of 4 children out of the house. That cleared my morning. My friend Ruth gave me baking apricots when I cleaned for her yesterday & cherries were on sale at the market on the way home. As for laundry...well, as long as I was here, I washed it! 

Funny how simple things that seem unimpressive can bring joy in the right circumstances. Coming out of a terrifying situation as I have this past couple years has brought new insight. A dog insistently  barking now while I try to peacefully write causes me to smile and be grateful for the experience. Doing my laundry with it's bright colors & hanging it out on the line is a joy now, not a chore. 

All this, I suppose, is to say...what? Perhaps nothing. Just to babble. Soon I'll hit the East side of the Sierras. Who knows what will be inspired from that...

Rose in the light of the solar eclipse

Campfire of justice

This next poem was spewed out of my soul after my appeal encounter with the EDD judge (unemployment). It was a powerful experience that affected us both and I am sure that someone much more powerful than either of us was in charge. The judge who would not make eye contact (how can you do that job if you do?) had tears in her eyes when I left. All who are going through what I am experiencing were present in spirit and justice reigned. I felt it, felt it deep within...

The Beast is Us All              6/7/12    After the cataclysmic deluge of EDD’s interrogation.

Vengance she sought as I entered the room

Not from me, just as it takes to the moon

Shimmering, shaking heartache breaking

She flew at my heart, pecked at my soul

She could not know from where I came

Hit the sore spots just the same

All who matter welled up inside

 “here’s who I am…me!” I cried

“you with your anger, can’t touch my soul

I am ME, I am whole!”

Offering myself to that which sought blood

Laying it out, myself, a dove

Pick breaking ice, the damage was done

Not for myself, for all of us… done

CRACK, smack, the dice rolled off

Hit the floor & the beast fell back

Tears brought forth in the angry ones eyes

Said all that she couldn’t

I was hers, she was mine

Weeping a marshy meadow, sweet, sublime

See the love, feel the pain

We all are in it… alone just the same

Lay it out, put it forth

The beast is us all, no less & no more

Oswald Family Reunion. Kiss on cheek from NanO's Grandpuppy

  
Working through striving for balance between what must be done (putting up barriers from deer & gophers, building beds etc) to carry on and what is needed for the soul to refresh & push through inspired this poem to pour forth. The need to place my hands in soil, grow things, but not just anything...

Clarkia, Native & non native in my yard.

   
Something Wild                                                    

This massive destruction…of the soul

The will, want, need for a wild something to grow  

Cultivating, propagating never- except briefly ~ satiating

Longing to know,

pining to grow,

something,

something… wild ~

                    like my soul

Soul on fire crystal mire

Needing something wild…to grow

Widows web yanking the heart, seeding heart

Taking heart, the bleeding heart

Wanting to know,

Craving to grow,

Aching…for something

Something….wild~

you know?

Pleading from the river

“can you show? Do you know?

Who I am? Where do I go?”

On my face on the earth groveling

“help me grow,

something,

something… wild ~

to know

Just a dream, hallucination…of the clouds

Eyes open, colors flashing, heavens open

Taming it down, nothing but crowds

Keep me close, help me to grow

Needing to grow

Something,

Something… wild~

A dandelion…just wish ~ & blow

 ~J~moonmango                                                         6/20/12

This Farmer at Heart harvested the first garlic crop. Given a couple years of perfecting, it will be beautiful with large heads & cloves, pungent, but not over bearing. I will borrow a bit from  my dear friend & mentor Scarlett O'hara and say "As God is my witness" I'll never leave my garlic crop again! I will share it though!

 I also painted my bathroom orange & yellow about that same time. Time for some hot colors in my life!

Now I sit EATING apricot cobbler with vanilla ice-cream on the porch, just writing, colorful clothes... Who knew? Oh well, time to go to the Oakhurst job. It's been nice. Really nice. This particular day was nice from waking on. 

Each day's different and every day's new. I needed this day & wish one like this for you!

Spiraling up

When going through some files, I came across a folder with a blast from the past

These sketches & my Dad's News Herald card were from 5th & 6th grade. Once in awhile I would help Dad out at the paper in Santa Rosa & even set type a few times. Never thought it possible to be a photo journalist like Dad, just knew I wanted a camera...real bad!

Not many friends moving around, but I had my two true loves...John Denver & horses!

 

The final move, to Salinas, California, spiraled me downward, but even in 8th grade, my early writings & doodlings show that I spiraled it back up, even if a bit on the rye & dark side. The Garfield cartoon reflects a very realistic fear even to this day!

 

These adolescent early poems show a general disappointment with life as well as a need again to spiral back up. A bobbing cork in stormy sea so to speak. The pen & ink of John Steinbeck's house was done in 9th grade art class working off of a photograph. After my Grandma Johnson saw it, she took me with the ladies there for tea! Don't quite know how things would have gone for me without my Grandma's around during those times!

All in all, I'll take turning 51 over being young again...any day! Cheers to the wisdom that accompanies gray hair & droopy knees! 

Springtime, Rooted & Grounded ~ Mothers & Such

This afternoon on the phone:

Mom- "I think I figured out what your problem is"

Me- "I have PROBLEMS?!? Oh no, I'm so bummed, I didn't know I had problems!"

Mom: "Well, I was reading about ADD and antibiotics and you had so many as a child with your ear problems"

Me- "ohhhh, you mean the lack of attention span thing, problem, well, no I figure it's not a problem to me, just the people who deal with me".

Dad (on he other line)- Like your Parents".

Gotta luv em!



My Mother’s Daughter
or In Honor of My Mother (gotta get that Moose & Squirell in there hey?)

With absence of particular strengths, weaknesses,

Outpourings . . .& needs-

the ups, downs, all overs of one, My Mother-

Were I not my Mother’s Daughter, what person might I be?

Ukulele strumming  I Dream of Lilac Time,  Mother singing

Blooming of the Lilac bush, takes me back ~

The name she gave me, worthy of that song.

Spinning, spinning, going round, fast, fast as I can.

Lost again, still, but not anymore, just wandering~

“Go find your Sister” My Mother’s voice to my Brother.

This Mother who brought me down from the clouds

Would I be found if not? This mind mixes that wonder~

There’s a wavy reflection in a nearby pond,

That reflection owning another Mothers ring, not mine.

May as well dance, spin barefoot in the dandelions-

baking soda on the yellow jacket sting… of time.

Life’s penuriously harsh ways, bring forth essences~

could endurance on my part escape bewilderment~

if another’s Mother was mine & no other?

What would be the surroundings of my scent?

All this said, “nuff said” (Sam Elliot) & no more.

Would I wonder, should I ponder,

what if My Mother was yours, and yours mine?

Of ones own Mother, what heart could be fonder?

~J~moonmango                       4/24/12

4 generations! Time for a new pic.!

You Too Dear Daughter

You too Dear Daughter, child of a child

Mother now yourself

What would your mold look like

If thou Mother were not me?

Slight reflection of My Mother

Essence of My Grandmother there

The impact of My Mothering quite abstract

Self assured beauty, not my refection…

           in the dishwater

Had not you I, instructing refusal of any portion

If not surely yours to eat

Then~ showing you why, by example… 

Eating what wasn’t mine- to swallow

Had you some other person’s Mother, not this one

No Grandmother threatening the DJ,

Just singing the lullaby of her own life, not mine

What person might you be Dear Daughter?

~J~moonmango                              4/25/12

Greenie Neenie's Eco Friendly Cleaning!

How my garden grows

"You Learn"

I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone
I recommend walking around naked in your living room
Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)
Wait until the dust settles

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

I recommend biting off more then you can chew to anyone
I certainly do
I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time
Feel free
Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)
Hold it up (to the rays)
You wait and see when the smoke clears

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)
Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually anyway)
The fire trucks are coming up around the bend

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

You grieve you learn
You choke you learn
You laugh you learn
You choose you learn
You pray you learn
You ask you learn
You live you learn

Drummers vapor Fire Dancers & Drummers

     

Poppy in the Garlic

A friend asked me if this pic of the poppy in the garlic is a metaphor of my life! Ha!

Before

After (coming soon, orange in the bathroom!)

                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                        

Just Desserts

If you get stressed and turn it backwards, flipping it into joy

If all that comes before you that causes you to fret

Can be turned onto a plate with cream

Would stress then feed you Dear… in the form of Just Desserts?

~J~moonmango                           4/30/2012

http://youtu.be/HgNJ9l5Z2YY

weed eater started right up!

Goodbye Maurice Sendak. The wild things live on...

Jerseydale redneck truck deco

Loada Crap

If someone feeds you a load of crap, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Kind of like the saying “when life give you lemons, make lemonade”.  When life feeds you crap, make manure & grow stuff!  Season it well and sift out the big chunks!

~J~moonmango                                        3/10/12    8:45pm.

        

My Babies turned a year older!

Aaron 29, 

Vanessa 34!             

Mousie, Mousie Grey & Sweet (or Ode to Mousie)

Mousie Mousie grey and sweet, how precious are your tiny feet

Kitty tossed you like a rag, must have been a real big drag

Now you lay upon the rug as though you were a nasty bug

Kitty waits for you to move, to torture you with nowt to prove

smoke and ash take you higher, after tossing your body into the fire

~Moonmango~        3/20/12

                 

 The V in the Y

At the V in the crossroads, behind me the I,
on my knees... rage & fury, shaking my fists at the sky.
Dragging my heart like a lead ball, lightening & thunder
this leg of the journey wasn't my idea.

Staying here at the crossroads brings death, decay,
the sharpness of the V blinds me with white.
The void perhaps will cut the light, I don't know.
The void waits, I can't go now, with my heart shut down

The weight like the world, pulling me back,
every color of the rainbow crashing into my soul
The lilacs take me home, but I'm lost there too.
Going back will lay me down, down like a worn rug

I'd stick out my thumb, go a different path, no cars are coming.
On my knees here, can't sleep, can't eat,
reluctant to continue, this journey alone.
Left at the V, the I was so sweet

Shaking my fists at the wind, hungry with need.
I'd hang on, but Papas laughing and I'm alone.
It's only a storm that was once in his eyes,
Me & Papa facing the V at the Y, me alone, leaving the I

I'd punch a wall, throw another chair, have a tantrum~
Who the hell cares. I remember now...I know this place.
Now I see, I can't stay here at the crossroads, the V in the Y.
The ruler smacks my hand & breaks, the foot kicks my heart.

Words like a tail o 9 lashing my soul, this time, this time...
I'll step forward, but not today.
If the ladies in the clouds ask me to I'll scream.
On my knees here, it's raining now, wind whipping.

A voice whispers "wake up" doesn't it know that I did…

I woke up this morning, a sweet voice called to me, 
breaking this heart, that voice calling to me.
Just a voice today, no soul to accompany
Wakes me up, just the same

Losing myself, finding me again, in the storm of his eyes
I could see them from here, but the'r hidden from me now
I'll scrape my reflection off the mirrors I clean.
It's Just a thought, a way, a get around
Summers closing in, the music begins.
I'll dance my way through the V over the mountains

I'll lay in the flowers along Soda Creek again,
lots to do now, here at the V, the V in the Y.
I'll think about it tomorrow...fiddle dee dee.
A rocking chair, four walls, one with a hole.

Oh for want of a frying pan and some room to throw,

a horse to ride hard, ride fast, put away wet.
The mouse runs past my bare feet, scared, alone.
The cat didn't ask before bringing her in if she had a home

~J~moonmango                 4/22/2012

 

Reefer Madness or Figment of My Imagination 
 (oh, no, Moose & Squirrel again)

Full moon rising, Creedance comes to mind

What was that? There’s a bathroom on the right?

Ski bums tramping, juke box blasting, wee one wondering

Is it real, could it be? A figment perhaps ~ of the clouds bursting

Reefer rumbling, distant grumbling, hOduNnks in the room!

Duck & run, throw tomatoes, it’s just a figment anyway,

Moonlight madness, reefer badness, tomatoes splattered…

Under cover everyone, this ones lost it --& on the run!

Better fly it to that big ol’ moon…

~J~moonmango          

   5/4/12      Ro’ting  (not to be confused with rotting) inspired.

Ferry's Hites Cove! Lynn & Richard Ferry

Fairy Lanterns Hites Cove

A couple years ago:

TICKS

By Jeannine André

Ticks can hop, ticks can jump, ticks can bite you on the rump

Wade through the brush
 dare, but I just found one in my hair!!!

Yes, I did find it necessary to write all that. It is Dr. Seuss's birthday tomorrow, and I really did find a big fat yucky tick in my hairline!!!!

4/1/2010            ~J~moonmango

 Hites Cove Crossroads of Chem trails

Vita Mixer Blues   

Oh how I miss you, what shall I do?

Basil season approaching, I am so blue

Pesto no more can be blended by you

Oh dear Vita Miixer, what shall I do?

No grain shall I grind, to make my own bread

Without you oh Dear, I fear I am dead.

Daily I’ve used you taking for granted

All that you offer, now I say “dammit”

If a mound of hummus be all that I need

To show what you meant to me

I’d have need not  to plead

But needy I am for more spread made with seed

Oh how I miss you, what shall I do?

My sweet grinding thing, who ground all my food

I’ll bury you Dear in the ground I suppose

I’ll carry on then my heart with repose.
 

~J~moonmango (a very sad)    5/4/12

Full Moon Women's Circle in Melinda's Yurt...AWESOME!

Mariposa African Drum Ensemble & Manna Fire Dancers were amazing!