Our dream has passed



Today I walked into Sage Chapel at Cornell to pray.  I thought it might be nice.  As I arrived, a brief walk from my office, I soaked in the quiet of this beautiful building with no one around.

I remember the first time I walked into this chapel in the winter of December 1984. At the time, there was a road in front of it and parking.  I was with my parents and we were attending a wedding.  I don’t think I ever saw the bride again and the couples we sat with, maybe once or twice.

1984 was 34 years ago. It struck me as peacefully odd that I ended up here all these years later. I prayed for my parents and everyone I know.  Then I thought how many beautiful pictures and angles one could take of this chapel.

It is like life…angles…one snapshot here, another there, people coming and going.

I asked my husband how I would ever get over my Mother’s death. You do and you will…you will remember her  but she will seem so far away he said, not verbatim but in essence.

My Mother feels so far far away and she is only 39 days into the either.  She told me once I would miss her someday and she was right.  It seems at this moment like she was never here, as if it was a dream.



Reverence for a teacher

Photo Sep 06, 3 35 00 PM
Memorial behind  McGraw Hall, Cornell

Behind my office at Cornell University, or rather to the side and behind the imposing statue of Ezra Cornell, sits this memorial to a professor .

I have created the narrative of slow thoughtful research for this professor. I see him with drawings and diagrams all hand drawn as he passes knowledge from one generation to another.

In my mind’s eye, this professor is hiking around our towns, stopping to point his finger at a phenomenon in the natural world. His students stand still, quiet, holding his words, filing them carefully for another time to be accessed on their own hikes.

I hear a quiet peaceful noise when I stop by this monument to this teacher. I think it is nice and kind that he remains here to remind us all of what can be learned in silent, steady, peaceful observation.

I note well that this monument, this glacial rock, has stood still during my 2 plus years at this job. Still and motionless as my life progresses on faster than I ever imagined in the springtime of adulthood.


Summer into Fall

Pictures, some enhanced with color,  and filters

Sunflowers = seeds plus strategic protection from creatures who dig the seeds up, drought that dries the soil up, and creatures who eat the finished flower
Harvest Time

Bolt Castle…Summer 2016

I do not, hear me, Do Not, want to go outside. Signed Moby! on a rainy day, or any day that looks cold or messy!
Breakfast after Bed….upside down French Toast
A walk among the trees
The Summer Wanes

..amended poem of Joyce Kilmer Oates

I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a Sycamore tree
Sunrise, Sunset, swiftly flows the life…first heard from Fiddler on the Roof as sung by my Uncle Ed in 1973, circa
“A place is more than the sum of its physical parts; it’s a repository for memories, a record and retainer of all that has happened within its boundaries.” ― Kate Morton, The Distant Hours
“Oh Mrs. Dalloway, always giving parties” The Hours
Almost Timeless
Try to remember the kind of October that was this beautiful






And so it came to pass, that like most Thanksgivings during my 19 years on the farm ,the spirits let there be snow for Thanksgiving