Ella M. Singer Somewhere In The Forest

Leave the dishes. Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor. Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster. Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup. Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins. Don’t even sew on a button. Let the wind have its way, then the earth that invades as dust and then the dead foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch. Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome. Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzles or the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worry who uses whose toothbrush or if anything matches, at all. Except one word to another. Or a thought. Pursue the authentic — decide first what is authentic, then go after it with all your heart. Your heart, that place you don’t even think of cleaning out. That closet stuffed with savage mementos. Don’t sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth or worry if we’re all eating cereal for dinner again. Don’t answer the telephone, ever, or weep over anything at all that breaks. Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life and talk to the dead who drift in though the screened windows, who collect patiently on the tops of food jars and books. Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything except what destroys the insulation between yourself and your experience or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters this ruse you call necessity.

Louise Erdrich, Original Fire: Advice To Myself

St. David’s Day is on Sunday! Grab a leek and celebrate with Fluellen.

(Note: Scallions make good miniature leeks.)

Leo Piron (Belgian, 1899-1962), Paysage hivernal avec moulin [Winter landscape with windmill]. Canvas, 41 x 50 cm.

We wise young things in daisy fields.

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Credits to wonderful authors: Marta Soltys & ada blitzkrieg.

Albert Bierstadt

untitled by 23pavasariai on Flickr.

Fine Art of the Forest

(c) riverwindphotography, August 2024