Wednesday, November 14, 2012


Weather:  Cool, breezy, dim. 50 degrees at 4pm. Threatening rain.

Dearest Readers,
We left off in my last blog with letter I (for i-phone). Ready for more?
Granddaughter Rosie’s Alphabet Book has grown from J through R.

 J is for your brother Jack
Who rode his bike
Around the track.

K is for kangaroo
Flying a kite.
Baby Roo in her pouch is holding on tight.

 L is for Linda
Your pretty mother,
Who loves you and Jack
Like no other.

M is for the monkey face
Smiling on Jack’s hoodie.
If he was real
I think he’d play
With you Rosie,
...Could he?

N is for Ni-Ne
A grandma so rare,
Who likes to wear
Plastic clips in her hair.

O is for Osman
Who is your Daddy
He’s strong and kind
And a little chatty.

P is for Pig
Who spends her time
Rooting for food
With her nose in the slime.

Q is for Quack–
The sound of a duck,
Not the bark of a dog
Or the honk of a truck.

R is for Rosie
For whom I took
The time to make
This Alphabet Book.

Monday, November 5, 2012


Weather:  Cooler today. Low 60’s. Cloudy and damp-ish.  The return to regular time is messing with my head.

Dearest Readers,
I woke up at 5:48 am, which is now called 4:48 on the standard time clock. It will take a few days for my body to slide back into this regular time frame. I’ll miss the predawn moon and the thick stars. Why do the morning stars outshine the thin-skinned bunch at bedtime? 10:00pm in old time, (two nights ago), just a few sickly stars struggled to shine through the clear, dark sky. The next morning before dawn the same dark sky was full of stars. Hmmm.

I’m making an alphabet book on for my two year old granddaughter, Rosie for Christmas.
I’m enjoying the silliness of creating nincompoop drawings and bad-but-cute rhyming poetry to accompany each letter on a page. Ever have the urge to let loose and be a little foolish?

Here are nine crazy creatures I’ve completed so far.
 (P.S. My grandma name is Ni-ne). 
A is for Alfie
He’s strong and he’s quick.
He likes to greet friends
With a bark and a lick.

 B is for Betty
Feisty and small,
Who yelps whenever
Ni-ne comes to call.

 C is a cockatiel named Dudley.
He’s cute and yellow
But not very cuddly.

 D is for Ducky
Who floats in the tub,
Like the three men of old
Who sang rub-a-dub-dub.

E is for Etta
Who has a long nose.
She likes to play outside
With Ni-ne and Rose.

F is for Felix
Shiny and black,
Who swims round and round,
Forward and back.

 G is for goat
Who munches all day
On grass and weeds,
Branches and hay.

H is for hydrant
With a hippo on top,
Who spins and dances
And hates to stop.

 I is for i-phone
Full of apps
For games and weather,
And GPS maps.


Thursday, November 1, 2012


Weather: Low 60’s, sunny, gusty.  40’s tonight.

I wake to a sound like shimmering satin–
A prom queen maneuvering
Through her moiré gown.
It’s Hurricane Sandy’s entourage,
Swirling leaves, creaking the cedar
That scratches my window,
Twirling the elm
And scattering her bones.

Clouds limned in vampire light
Fast-forward across a full moon.
Somewhere the tide is heaving against a beach
Far and away from here.
     -C.Kane 10.29.2012

Dearest Readers,
Hurricane Sandy swished the hem of her wide flowing robe across Georgia this week, and gave us a taste of her cold windpower. It’s still chilly and a bit breezy, but I can’t complain. We were spared her fury this time.

The past few mornings I’ve awoken before dawn, and turned the crank on my old fashioned window to let in the smells and sounds of autumn. This stirred up memories and plumbed my soul. Two poems emerged in response.

That smell snuck in my little window
Like a ghost with zero mass.
She unfurled her wings upon entering,
Swirled around the ceiling and my bed,
Trailing a film of sheer intimations
Of soil mixed with rain and regret.
-C.Kane 10.28.2012

This knowing is a cloak
Across my shoulders
Bestowed by bluebirds perhaps,
When I was doing something else.

Out of the blue a deep wisdom
Arrived and filled the burrows
Where my blind digging was proceeding.
Like groundwater, it rose into these places
And quietly, without my looking,
Filled in the tunnels and softened the stones.
-C.Kane 10.27.2012

Finally, dear readers, at the risk of overwhelming you with more aspects of my self-portraits of feelings, here are seven vintage hankies that I laser-printed two years ago with my face photographed in the bathroom mirror– 89 consecutive days with my feeling of the moment. I’m quilting them individually now...not for a bedspread or a wall hanging...just for themselves in all their intimacy.  It is tiny, delicate lapwork. I finish about one a week. I needed an antidote to the hole digging, tree hacking, ladder lashing and stone cutting last summer. Have you ever felt the need to act both big and small?

So here they are. Remnants of a Catholic school childhood. Hankies that belonged to Hazel, my mother, that the nuns allowed in the little breast pocket of my grammar school uniform. Appropriated now to investigate who I am in the midst of shifting emotions. 82 more to come.

Day #23. Cuddly

Day #60. Compliant

Day #74. Healthy

Day #75. Alive 

Day #78. Pumped up 

Day #80. Loved

Day #87. Helpful