That is a stirring gizmo made of Douglas Fir, a cranky but gorgeous wood. The winter grain is dramatically harder than the summer grain, takes a lot of soaking, drying and sanding to get smooth.
Aw, these are the times when poetry seems a worthwhile endeavor.
When all of the family got together in Arkansas and dozens of cousins were hanging out and laughing with uncles and aunts, Dad used to say, "There ain't nothing like consanguinity." There was always a special power to that word and its root, "sanguine".
What a wonderful memory. He must have been your blueprint- and yes, blood is everything we are and when close (or even not) proximity it’s inebriating. Love this.
Of all the incredibly beautiful pieces of your writing this one hit with a power that sits me down to recover.
Aw, these are the times when poetry seems a worthwhile endeavor.
When all of the family got together in Arkansas and dozens of cousins were hanging out and laughing with uncles and aunts, Dad used to say, "There ain't nothing like consanguinity." There was always a special power to that word and its root, "sanguine".
What a wonderful memory. He must have been your blueprint- and yes, blood is everything we are and when close (or even not) proximity it’s inebriating. Love this.
Sooo true!
This is a stunner