Impressions ~ Walking II
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Impressions ~ Walking II

Vignette \vin-yet\ Etymology (a word’s history) 1)  1751, “decorative design,” originally a design in the form of vine tendrils around the borders of a book page, especially a picture page, from French vignette, from Old French diminutive of vigne “vineyard” (see vine). Since transferred from the border to the picture itself, then (1853) to a type of small photographic portrait with blurred edges very popular mid-19c. Meaning “literary sketch” is first recorded 1880, probably from the photographic sense. https://www.etymonline.com/word/vignette#etymonline_v_7784 2)  Definition of vignette (noun) vi·​gnette 1a: a picture (such as an engraving or photograph) that shades off gradually into the surrounding…

Impressions ~ Walking I
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Impressions ~ Walking I

July 12, 2020 8:53AM. East side of Lone Pine Rd, Crook County, Oregon. On the sidehill of a butte, at the top of a favorite trail. My hair is loose today.  I feel witchy.  Witches were among the first of the wise women, connected directly to the land.  Men and fear turned the word into how it is perceived today. The last quarter of the moon floats high in the southwest sky.  A sky-blue and alabaster white translucent pearl. The moon, high in the upper right corner. Almost a forgotten cloud fragment. Above and behind me, the butte is a…

ETCHED
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ETCHED

Today, I walk in a sapphire sphere.  Under a brilliant, crystal sky.  The air a clear shatter of light.  Everything is etched upon this canvas. My dictionary app defines “etched” as:  1) to outline clearly or sharply; delineate; 2) to fix permanently in or implant firmly on the mind; root in memory; 3) to cut (a feature) into the surface of the earth by means of erosion. But, when I think of etched, I think of a picture scratched in black and white onto a hard surface.  Each line is embedded into the surface.  No ink floating on the surface…

Books & Words II
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Books & Words II

Childhood Unboxed My left hand held a small leather bound book open across my knee as my pencil transcribed thoughts in fuzzy grey marks.  Rustle, rustle, rustle.  The pencil spoke to the paper as it skipped along.  Not having much choice, the paper agreed to the pencil’s rhetoric.  The paper, off-white and lined, fluttered in the breeze.  My left hand clamped it down so the pencil could finish a word.  I sat on a sun-warmed, charcoal grey, lichen spotted rock on a steep hillside. The hillside was dotted with juniper trees.  Bluebirds flitted amongst them.  Late afternoon sunlight slanted through…

Books & Words I
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Books & Words I

My left hand held a small leather bound book open across my knees as my pencil transcribed thoughts in fuzzy grey marks.  Rustle, rustle, rustle.  The pencil spoke to the paper as it skipped along.  Not having much choice, the paper agreed to the pencil’s rhetoric.  The paper, off-white and lined, fluttered in the breeze.  My left hand clamped it down so the pencil could finish a word.  I sat on a sun-warmed, charcoal grey, lichen spotted rock on a steep hillside. The hillside was dotted with juniper trees.  Bluebirds flitted amongst them.  Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees…

Creativity & New Energy
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Creativity & New Energy

During some introspective times of late, I have come to a couple of conclusions:  1) I want to awaken this blog; 2) I would like to invite you, my patient readers, into my life farther; 3) say “thank you!!” for taking the time to click on my blog link and perhaps read an essay or two; 4)  compose more and shorter posts about my life, those I share it with, what I am learning and experiencing, books I am reading, blogs I follow and find of interest, and anything else that strikes me to include here.  So.  Now I’ve said…