Coffee with one sugar and all my Dreams

It's early morning....
and the sky sits low,
crawling just above the ground...
gray and damp,
wheezing like an old dog
curled on his muddy backdoor  rug....

And yet, it's delightful.  Something about it is Old Soul.  Comfortable.  Familiar.

The Blue skies of tomorrow are being painted in a secret room above the clouds, and the wild winds of yesterday are parked in the corner....hung over from their willful misbehaviour last night.

Today is Peace.

I park my crickety old self on the park bench and sip coffee in the quiet just outside my door.  I breathe better here....

Under the simple skies....

Words and artwork (c) Singleton 2013 Coffee table courtesty of Merle, green and splattered in machine oil.... just waiting for me to tattoo the spirit of the river smack on it's ruddy surface:)  Thank you, new friend!

The Porch Party and other floating fairytales

I peek out the little aluminum door at sunrise....watch for wayward wild animals, slithering snakes, strangers....and then barrel out into the morning... Two black pups...nose to the ground....send me flying past curtain number one, two, three..... of fog, leaping over little foothills, make believe bridges, potholes...and into the damp darkness of morning on the river.... To Paradise.... To the sun rising over the muddy water.... To the lazy ripple of old water stretching, rolling over one more time before it has to rise.... And then finally, home again... To This... To Peace Porch and the promise of another Day....

Our House is a very very Hippie House.....

I wander around in circles, my fingers tracing memories in big fat summer dust, settled everywhere.... This House, these walls, these stories....painted everywhere......whisper to me...

And now we're waiting.  I touch things.  Move them ever so slightly.  Echo the little chant..."Keep, pass, toss" and decide their fate in an underwater , upside down state of mind.  It's time to Go.  To Move on.  And to look back, only with Love.....

I wonder, if like Nadine once said, someone will have to spend a fortune whitewashing these walls, sanding over our carvings, blasting the mosaics from everywhere they turn.  If someone will cleanse our house of it's spirit, it's blessings, it's internal tattoo's and I wonder if
for just a moment or
forever....
a tiny hippie haunting will dance on....
in the shadows....
the little creaks at night....
the accidental music of a woodstock wind.....

Good-bye little house and a gazillion earthly belongings.  We're packing up our memories, a few good pair of jeans, two cats, two dogs, a bicycle, a coffeepot, Grannys high poster bed, and Nana's bamboo bar.....and heading to the River....to live in a Gypsy trailer....

and laugh....once again.......

In a place called Peace....