happy birthday, little zine……

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I can’t believe it’s been a year since I patched together and sent traveling
my first little batch of Ripplesongs,  a handmade zine I cobble together each month
with a whole heap of love
to savor and  share.
Frankly,  I don’t sell many at all……mostly they find homes with people and places near and dear to my heart,
like handmade bouquets I pluck from my garden.
It feels like setting up a farm stand each month and laying out my produce and flowers;
I get as much joy from the whole glorious mess of the process
as I do from seeing the finished product all ready to shine.
If someone comes around to buy,  well I like that.
When they don’t,  it’s still crazy-joy to scoop it all up and give it away.
Either way it feels like Christmas morning:)

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Why?
Because I want to pour you out a river of breeze,
to gather you a bouquet of sweet,  soft lay-me-down moments
and hold this sense of relish like a seashell to your ear
so you can hear the whisper in your wounds
because I think maybe that it’s the sound that healing makes

because I feel it so strong inside that you are the priceless art,
more beautiful by design than sea or sunset or gossamer wings,
that there is precious little balm to waste in the hard flee of time
and I choose to share the salve I find
because I know that living can stone you sudden till your heart rattles pieces
and hope can get upended in the tumble

 

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and when you find a well that keeps on giving
your heart stretches out wide and thumps love so ebullient
that it reaches and offers and speaks.
You just want to share the shimmer from the waves you’re riding,
the blooming from your field of dreams.

This is mine.
It may not be “successful,”  as some would say.
But it makes my own heart sing
and you’re free to help yourself to as much as you like:)

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” Earth’s crammed with heaven,  and every common bush afire with God.
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
the rest sit round and pluck blackberries.”
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Feel free to browse over some of the pages in each month’s zine over here at my very unkempt little etsy shop,
www.Ripplespeak.etsy.com
Dismal empty right now,  but that will change shortly:)

I

Summer go softly….

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It’s good to be back here again,
to settle back into the gentle rhythm that I love
and let my swollen fingers walk soft across the keyboard
in the lingering way that I’ve missed.
I’ve felt homesick for the quiet of it all.

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It’s been a swirl of change and ache and beauty and stretch
and I’m grateful that we’re free to walk in whisper
when words feel unready to be said.
I like letting ripe happen.

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I haven’t many words today
but have a handful of fresh,  summery zines
that I’d love to give away.
If  you leave a comment,  I’ll plunk your name into the basket
and draw 5 or so next Sunday.
I want to share the bounty of my garden with you:)

“One of these mornings you’re gonna rise up singing
And you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky
But ’til that morning, there ain’t nothing can harm you,
with Daddy and Mammy standing by.”

Summertime and the Livin’ is Easy
(Ella Fitzgerald)

What I’ve been grazing and grooving on……

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I’ve been squeezing the last drops of juice from January,
the one month each year that sometimes feels like vacation
because our gardening business settles down for a long winter’s nap
and I can throw myself more into projects I’ve been saving for the big quiet
but this year has been cheeky,  as the sap is already rising,
and so I’ve been hours in the trees,   pruning,
and I’m sore from the hard and cold and a stiff sort of sleepy.

My blogging process looks a lot,  in my mind,   like gardening and cooking;
I tend what’s growing in my heart,  writing down snippets and making bites of art
and then gather the bits into bouquets
or cobble into soup or salsa or pie
to serve up fresh and in season here every week
(a small lyrical café,  I imagine:))

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but I’m a wintery sort of tired this week up here pruning away
(and I skipped a week already,  didn’t I)
so I’m going to serve them straight up,  the munchies I’ve been grazing on,
the clippings of what I’ve been loving (like turnip greens and their sweet baby roots).
Feel free to snack on the whoosh and whisper of it all:

 ~ There’s  fierce beauty in spending less than we make.

~Urgency is rarely true,  and is always a lie when it’s compulsive.

~ We are –  all of us  –  lovely to God
(don’t let shame hiss at you otherwise)

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 ~  “Hope is a conclusion we stay in
as we hope our way through hopeless circumstances.”
-Robin MacMillan

~There is something profoundly and deeply right with each of us.

~it takes me back home to the healer of my heart,  whispering in the cold,  brave sunshine
how Love walked right into this thumping ache of mine,  went tenderly to the room
where I feel broken,  and moved in bearing balm and comfort and courage
and “where does it hurt?”
and when the wind outside was howling chaos,
became the greenhouse where my fiercest flowers grow.

~ “…the air a library and the record of every life lived,  every sentence spoken,
every word transmitted still reverberating in it.”
-Anthony Doerr’s  All the Light We Cannot See
(potent read and a terrible beauty)

moody blog
 I'll soon be down from the trees and back in my heart's kitchen,
 stirring up something hopeful yummy to serve
  but didn't want to go silent so long so here is my little offering.
Much love and light and lift to your astonishingly beautiful heart - xoxox
(little drawing to give away a copy of my February issue zine,  Ripplesongs;
 leave a comment
 and your name goes in the fuzzy hat)

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letting wonder woo you…

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Keep being wowed,
heaven blowing often kisses,
and because you’re watching,
you catch and let them woo you,

  keeping palms up and heart open,
your romance with living alive.

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Keep showing up to the table,
going soft to miracle and mystery,
to all the mundane glory
winking and whispering tender
over the unique heart
that it’s wilding to win.

(that’d be yours,  m’dear)

You’re the prize,  you know:)

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I want to give away a copy of my fresh little creation I call Ripplesongs.
It’s a zine…..the September issue still warm from the oven.
It’s my passion to donate these to waiting rooms wherever people are hurting
and hungry for hope.
I hope this bold, roomy read feels like a walk through a beautiful garden,  a strong shot of courage,  a big gulp of air.
I’ll draw a name next week from the comments….please tell me where you’d maybe donate a copy
and I’ll send an extra and one for you,  too.
With a whole heap of love.

“I like living.
I have sometimes been wildly,  despairingly,  acutely miserable,
racked with sorrow,  but through it all I still know quite certainly
that just to be alive is a grand thing.”
-Agatha Christi

Ripplesong dreams….

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When I was a little girl I wanted to grow up to be a singer
and a florist (grin),
someone who made songs and flung them to the stars,
and grew flowers and filled the earth with beauty and blossom.
A singing farmer:)
As I’ve grown up and gotten busy with the messy business of life,
my songs and bouquets slide sifted into everydayness
and the love I want to sprinkle goes often tucked away in silent gifts
I send down the river with an open-handed prayer.
I like it that way.

But I’ve also danced with bookish dreams,
of sharing my heart on sweet-smelling paper
with anyone who wanted to have and hold
and diving in I’ve wrestled with how to do it true,
in a way that cultivates soft  buttery peace in the living, breathing place inside
and feels real to the very heart of me,
honest like a just picked bouquet of bloomers still dripping with dew
and poured out with wild abandon,

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~true in the vivid color that I love
…..it speaks a language that is super-expensive to print and I want it,
need it strong like my tea,
pungent like my herbs,  rich like my chocolate
and bright like the sun.
Whiskey in a teacup:)

~true to my love for supporting local
…..I don’t want to send my stuff across oceans to print
when the friendly faces who walk their dogs,
ride their bikes and buy their groceries where I live
need their jobs and do them well
right here where I keep shop.

~true to my paper-love
….stock that’s  thick and crisp enough to paste into journal or prop onto windowsill
or tuck by bits and pieces into notes for passing

~true to my love for seasons….I think in season and cycle
and love to share just plucked goodness,  like a meal I would serve you at
my  table,  sliced up juicy with the bounty of each month’s harvest.

~and true because it’s a present I get to make and give new,  over and over again
and that makes me ridiculously glad:)
I’m wired that way;  it lights me up.
There’s just no accounting for what gives a person crazy joy;)

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I have the first batch of these bright bouquets up for sale
in my Ripplespeak etsy shop
Ripplesongs June:)
I want to give some away to you,  oh please:)
Just leave me a comment and I’ll draw some names next week…..5 shining names:)

(can you tell how wide I’m grinning here?)

“….but we can do small things with great love.”
-Mother Teresa

 

~