Wednesday, February 28, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle
In the Chinese Zodiac, this is the Year of the Pig. and not just any pig, but the Golden Pig, which occurs only once every six hundred years. It is considered very auspicious and lucky to be born in this year.
In all my photos and photo files, I do not have a pig--not auspicious. So the above photo of one of those wonderful little Italian markets has nothing to do with pigs, other than the fact that there is hanging in the window those also wonderful Italian hams, which is not auspicious for the pig. (Had to stop writing and look up "auspicious" to be sure I understood the meaning--yes, it means lucky, positive, fortunate, etc.)
So, if you were born in 1995, 1983, 1971, 1959, 1947, 1935, 1923, or 1911, you must celebrate! Most likely, if you were born in 1899 or back, you are dead. Except for Olive Riley, born in 1899, who has the distinction of being the world's oldest blogger. All of the above information is courtesy of Jeff Eertmoed and Eric Shackle on the Wordsmith website, which, by the way, is always fascinating.
If any of this seems to indicate I am making fun of or am a non-believer in astrology, absolutely not so! I myself am a Horse in the Chinese Zodiac which, while being a beautiful animal, does not have quite the sterling characteristics of the Pig: intelligence, honesty, strength and fortitude. Which is probably why Olive is still out there, blogging away.
- mimi

Tuesday, February 27, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

- mimi

Friday, February 23, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

...surely the strange beauty of the world
must somewhere rest on pure joy.
- Louise Bogan

Thursday, February 22, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

"You have to fall in love
with your future."
- George Burns
(and he lived to be 100!)
"He not busy being born
is busy dying."
- Bob Dylan
"You will do foolish things,
but do them with enthusiasm."

Sunday, February 18, 2007


Digitally enhanced photo by S. Auberle

Not supposed to write poems about angels,
so my writing teacher says,
no sunsets, roses, rainbows, doves.
Hard realism, he says,
but I like angels:
grievous, fallen, tarnished,
those flying too close to the ground,
Virtues, Dominions,
the Thrones and Principalities,
Cherubim and Seraphim
the quirky ones,
those hunky warrior types.
I love them all, like this one
I found today in my favorite
second-hand shop on the shelf
marked "damaged goods."
Serene, exquisitely so,
and I could find nothing wrong
until I turned her upside down
and read on the base
angel with no halo.
Our eyes met, celestial bells chimed
as two kindred souls embraced.
She knew me, I tell you,
and she was the angel
I'd been searching for all my life:
serene, with a sense of humor,
yet full of hard realism.
Whatever she'd done
to lose her halo, it was nothing
I hadn't done too, or at least
seriously considered. Damaged goods,
who isn't?
- mimi

Friday, February 16, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

"I think the real artists are too busy
with just being and growing and acting
(on canvas or however)
like themselves to worry about the end.
The end will be what it will be.
The object is intense living, fulfillment,
the great happiness in creation."
-Robert Henri
The Art Spirit

Tuesday, February 13, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle
"There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in."
- Leonard Cohen
There were times through the years,
love, I thought my heart would break.
Times it felt rough around the edges
and since I wear it out there, melting
on my sleeve, you always knew,
while your heart was (mostly)
tucked away, steadfast and quiet,
though once I saw it naked in your eyes
and didn't we both expect perfection:
that your heart would always
speak when I needed it
and that mine would hear
all your unspoken words?
Maybe growing old is just learning
to cradle each other's heart in our hands
like broken baby birds
or snowflakes melting in fists of light.
- mimi


Digital photo by S. Auberle
"I have long thought that anyone who does not regularly gaze up
and see the wonder and glory of a dark night
filled with countless stars loses a sense of their fundamental
connectedness to the universe."
- Brian Greene
The Elegant Universe
"It's only a little planet, but how beautiful it is."
- Robinson Jeffers
"If the stars should appear only one night in a thousand years,
how would man believe and adore."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sunday, February 11, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle
Sitting here this morning in my favorite cafe, people streaming in bundled tight, into a warmth of woodstove, coffee, scones, soup. I wrap my hands around the thick white china mug, smile at the little plates that say Paris with the Eiffel tower painted on them. The owner, Joel, is French. The stove blazes away in front of me. This is where I love spending a Sunday morning writing.
This is where it doesn't feel so bad to think about yet another member of our high school class gone. We were only a class of forty-two, and the bonds between us are still tight and real. With each member's passing we all feel the cold a little deeper, feel a little more lonely. And now Fred, crazy Fred is gone. Way, way too soon. He'd retired not long ago, still with the love of his life--Karla, still loving his life.
I remember one day that sticks in my mind--young Fred, young me, a convertible, a summer day, beer (we drank a lot of it in those days) laughter, sun, our whole lives stretching out there into infinity, like the road ahead. How could it be over so soon?
The only comfort is that, from the hometown obituary, it sounds like Fred had a good life. That he loved Karla to the max, his kids, fishing, camping in the northwoods. For all we know, he may be doing that right now--wherever the hell he is. And I gotta believe that he's somewhere. And that our class has this big Fred-shaped hole in our collective heart for a reason.
Rest in peace, Fred, and hoist one for us...
- mimi

Friday, February 09, 2007


Venetian painting, artist unknown

like the rising sun
like the resident fox
like a ladybug
crawling slowly
across a warm floor
like the tops
of cedars
in evening light
like Lucia's rose
like apples
like wine
red is
all the handsome
things in life
like a rosy ripe pear
like rowan berries
Otto's poppies
like the cliffs
at Sedona
old barns
the fresh paint
on my wall
red my heart
my blood
the fire in it
in a certain light
red the dress
worn the night
I first said
touch me
and you did
- mimi

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

deep in winter woods
pileated woodpecker
laughing at my fears
- mimi

Friday, February 02, 2007


Thursday, February 01, 2007


Photo/Collage by S. Auberle

In the wintery darkness of February, new growth is beginning to stir beneath the frozen ground. Just as plants grow in the darkness, unnoticed, so do our souls continue to grow, even though we may not see the progress day by day. One day we will awaken, and our leaves will lift out of the darkness and touch the sky.
- Joan Borysenko