A Fantastic 7 Years

Eli and lizzi's daughter celebrates her 7th birthday today.  She is a smart, caring, and inquisitive girl who really isn't very little anymore.  I know this will be another great year for her!

Lhaq'temish

A Lummi girl gets ready to help pull a war canoe.

The Lummi People, or Lhaq'temish, were the original occupants of northern Washington and southern British Columbia. The People of the Sea migrated seasonally between Point Roberts and many of the coastal islands until 1855, when they signed the Point Elliot Treaty and were forcibly moved to what is now the Lummi Reservation. Though their home shrank, they left their mark where they formerly wandered freely: a trail, a vineyard, and WWU's magazine are named "Klipsun," the Lummi word for "beautiful sunset;" "Kulshan," the Lummi name for Mount Baker, is also a school, a street, and numerous businesses and organizations; Mount Shuksan, or "high peak," is also a school among many other things; and Whatcom (County) itself is a Lummi word for "loud water."

Weekend Reflections: Tulip Fields Forever

A field of yellow tulips is reflected in my daughter's sunglasses.

Well, actually, they're MY sunglasses. The borrowing has started already.

If she was a folk singer in the 1970's, this would totally be her album cover.

Jumping for Joy...

...or, well, just because jumping is fun!

Life Tanka

do not slide your hand
into your pocket for warmth
put your hand in mine
I'll hold it while the wind blows
and at the end when it's still


Written for One Stop Poetry Form Monday, which focused today on the tanka, a Japanese love poem with lots of rules! Hopefully I followed them all without losing the spirit of the poem. It was a fun challenge, anyway: 5 lines of 5/7/5/7/7 syllables with a season word, no punctuation, and a twist-- the first three lines must stand on their own as a mini-poem, and the last three lines as well (so the middle line is used in both). Phew! If you want to read more about the ancient form of tanka as well as other entries, click here.

Not Reading a Book on a Bench

She sits on the bench and looks at the book.

Her fingers are red with cold

the wind stings her cheeks

and she can't read the words.

It doesn't matter.

Impervious to weather and reading ability,

she's captivated by the world in the pages.

Her imagination is free from the manipulation

of the author's carefully chosen phrases.

This is not his story, it's hers.

Her story, her world, her universe.

Somewhere

between a lamp post

and a leafy tree

a pretty girl smiles,

her hair caught by the wind