Tag: photos

breadcrumbs of my yesterday

we walked to city park in denver yesterday,
where my son, kipp, and marnie will get married in may.
will you promise to put in a good word
for weather like this on their big day?






we saw an eagle,
and i’m pretty sure
the eagle spotted us, too.



and on our way back,
we stopped off for some
voodoo doughnuts.
it’s the law, you know,
if you walk more than 7 miles.
(and yes, that really is a maple doughnut
topped with bacon)



my granddog, otto,
feigned disinterest.
but i still put the doughnuts
out of his remarkably jinormous reach
because i really didn’t find his performance all that convincing.



and as if all that wasn’t enough,
i began work on In Our Own Language 3 . . .


(it’s my second start, really.
forgetting i’d bought this yummy cream colored thread,
i started stitching with white embroidery floss.
glad i remembered before i stitched much further.)


yesterday went down in the herstory book with a gold star beside it. today we’re back to cloudy and cold, but i’m pretty sure it’ll go down as a gold star day anyway. you know, sometimes i think it’s all that effort to Be Happy and Think Positive that makes us miserable.

The Engineer and The Artist Walk


Every morning we walk up the falls together, and when we come to the fork in the road, he goes left to walk down to the lake, and I go to the right right to walk up the Way Big Hill. This morning he invited me to join him, and I did – reluctantly. While The Engineer likes walking downhill first (says it warms and loosens him up), I prefer to get the hard stuff out of the way first, then go downhill all the way home. He starts hard and finishes easy. I prefer starting hard and finishing easy.

He listens to music while he walks, I enjoy the sounds of my own thoughts, and the music of the falls. This morning I had three impossibly good ideas (or just impossible, depending on who you ask).

He carries a weight in each hand, and for the life of me I don’t know why, but I always like to have my hands free and uncommitted. Ready.

Then there’s this: I like to stop and take photos. Enough said.





drawing near, bending close


this year
i discovered
more specifically,
that i can grow them.


i also discovered
and fell flat out
in love
with photography,
what a visual
person i am.
and how i take
the way i present
myself in life:
only a wee little
bit at a time.
perceived safety and all.
we’ll talk more about that



i discovered
sunflowers this year, too.
oh, i knew sunflowers
from way back.
in graduate school,
i’d trek up to stowe
for some good wine,
good chocolate,
and roadside
sold on the
honor system.


but this year,
thanks to the
help of my
(iphone 4, no less)
i came to
know both
dahlias and sunflowers
in a different,
more intimate way,
much as jane kenyon
came to know
peonies . . .


In the darkening June evening
I draw a blossom near, and bending close
search it as a woman searches
a loved one’s face.


like so many people i’ve been honored to know,
and eventually die
with grace.
something you’re
bound to see
if you don’t just gaze
or look
or glimpse
but see,


nature’s crayolas: reds, blues

so i read about color week over at mrs. mediocrity’s nest, and didn’t i just bop on over to curious girl’s place and invite myself to the party. it’s been a rather stressful few days, and tuning in to notice colors seemed the perfect antidote to life in the medical pinball machine. but of course, i start out late, so my entry looks more like playing catchup.


so be it.


on monday i saw red . . .



when a neighbor’s cow came to call.


when the rusty moose went on the loose.

(well, maybe not on the loose, but, hey, i’m tired.)



when . . . oops.



when i saw the red dirt of home

had stained my clothes.




tuesday these things made me blue . . .



flawed glass



actually, it blew the blues.


my querencia (spanish for a place where you feel safe, at home, protected, invincible) is here:


and here


and here:


oh, and here:


but perhaps my #1 favorite querencia is here:


that’s right: the shower.

it’s not much to look at, but i like to call it home as often as possible.

it’s there i can relax and

wash away all the day’s dirt and dreariness.

it’s always 5:00 in the shower

where i can sit on the ledge and

and do my best thinking

with a glass of wine or a martini.

in the shower, i can be totally alone.

there’s no phone – just running water

to drown out the sounds of the day around me.

besides the car, it’s where i do my best (and loudest) singing.

i can be totally alone there.

the cats don’t like the shower very much,

the dog can’t open the door,

and my kids are old enough to know that if they wander in,

they’ll go blind at the sight.

the story is mine, but credit for the kindling goes to gwen bell and her best of 2009 blog challenge.

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the best night(s)


before we get started, a confession: i signed up for gwen bell’s blog challenge for two specific, well-thought-out (maybe fairly well-thought-out is more like it), self-serving reasons:
1. i want and i need to associate with good writers, seriously good writers. writers who will keep me sharp and keep me trying.
2. i don’t know if it’s fear of commitment or what, but i have trouble selecting favorites in my life. oh, i’m reflective enough all right, but in a general, broad-stroke sort of way.

that said, today’s assignment goes like this: December 5 Night out. Did you have a night out with friends or a loved one that rocked your world? Who was there? What was the highlight of the night? and my response goes like this:

best pre-2009 nights that come to mind include the night when, as an undergraduate student, i felt absolutely, undeniably, uncontrollably in love with my life. and the night he scooped me up – broken knee and all – and whisked me away minutes after we said “i will. oh, yes, yes, yes, you know i will.” how could i ever forget the night my daughter was born, and i slept through the night on my stomach for the first time in 12 years or the night 14 months later when my son was born and spent his first night sleeping quietly right beside me as i finished his christmas stocking?

then, after enough consideration to disrupt sleep and cause headaches, i’ve decided that the best 2009 nights include (in no particular order):
the night we supped with our n.c. friends – people we know only by sight – and their longtime friends whom we’d never seen at all. now eating with the people who live next door can be tricky. real tricky. and expensive if things go badly and you wind up having to sell your house or something. anyway, the first potential land mine is the fact that i’m a picky eater of the first order. it’s nothing my mother did or didn’t do, it’s just the way it is and i am. and what if we have multiple forks and i select the wrong one? what if we stay too long? leave too early? what if there’s something i can (read: will) eat, and it sticks to my teeth . . . and what if it’s an APPETIZER? what if i say the wrong thing? what if andy says the wrong thing and i can’t cover?

you get the picture.

at the appointed time, we head out and walk down to their house. it’s a nice night (and, honestly, we forget all about the fact that we’ll be walking uphill on the way home). what unfolded after we crossed their threshold is a night that, well, i’m writing about it here, so you know it was a good night. the food was DELICIOUS – i even asked for a recipe. there was only one spoon, one knife, and one fork at each place. the conversation flowed freely and easily – even when the other two couples talked about things shared, we didn’t feel left out for a single minute.

as we ate and talked and laughed – oh my goodness how we did laugh – the music played, and to my great delight, we would, after the hosts set the example, get up and dance right smack dab in the middle of the meal. this wasn’t dancing after dinner, this was dancing during dinner – and nobody had to ask to be excused. a good song would come on, and somebody would be up dancing before you could say “turn it up.”

another night worth remembering is a recent meal at the house of other friends. again, the food was delicious, the conversation never stalled, and cutlery was blessedly kept to one of each. at one point in the meal, the four of us were watching a football game on television; reading selections from a book by carlos castaneda, and discussing pre-columbian textiles as modern art – all at the same time.

the other 2009 night that comes to mind is this past thanksgiving night when i was settled in with the husband, my two chiclets, my mother, and an assortment of cats and dogs. tummies were full, dishes were clean and stored, and as we sat talking about this ‘n that while looking at the spectacular, can’t-take-your-eyes-off-of-it waterfall, it started snowing. we turned off all the lights inside, turned on all (read: both) the outside lights, and sat mesmerized with the beauty and quietness of it all.

. . . you know for a picky eater who hates cooking, it’s interesting that each one of my favorite nights involves a meal, isn’t it? well, i suppose there’s nourishment then there’s nourishment.


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Hey, Sugar! I'm Jeanne Hewell-Chambers: writer ~ stitcher ~ storyteller ~ one-woman performer ~ creator & founder of The 70273 Project, and I'm mighty glad you're here. Make yourself at home, and if you have any questions, just holler.

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