Snow wonderland
Wind singing through pines
Walking in Bonelli
Winter
wonder
The First Time I Saw the Nile
Riding hours through emerald mountains
to Bahir Dar.
We drove up a steep road,
monkeys begging near the roadside.
Car parked, we climbed a steep hill.
There she was
The NILE
a silver ribbon far below
grassy fields
two white robed people
walked, hippos barely visible.
The NILE
I cried,
a life’s longing fulfilled.
The NILE
Flowing from Lake Tana,
she lay below me,
the legendary river,
ancient people, ancient stories,
builder of civilizations,
of life.
The NILE.
Snake in the Wall
Searching for cool
Slithering, hunting
Transforming
The World in One Room
Four jaguar heads stare at me,
Mexican, Costa Rican.
A third guards the mantel,
partially hidden in tropical plants,
attack ready, tail raised, jaws open,
teeth bared.
My feet rest on a coffee table
carved in Kashmir. Â I look at the photo
of the young man whose family made it.
He took me home to meet his mom,
to the floating market.
Once peace reigned there.
Now I wonder if he is safe, alive.
The Hoop Dancer raises his arms,
the Acoma pot exudes ancient
black on white beauty, painted
by the tips of yucca stems.
The Thai Spirit House begs
to appease evil spirits.
I should put food and flowers there;
I never do.
Corn plant of life–for Navaho, Hopi,
me, painted, growing up my wall,
blue and red birds flitting through
the stalks, singing ancient songs.
Corn Maiden rug hanging on the wall;
an Isleta Pueblo girl won a contest
with its design. Â Four Corn Maiden
Kachinas watch the room.
Corn everywhere–Sacred Corn.
Three Ethiopian crosses, St. George
and the Dragon, Frida Kahlo doll,
Argentinian Madonna, Tohono O’odham
baskets, a painted cow skull, Nigerian carved
wooden elephants, including a Chieftains chair,
the stained glass transom window from the house
where my dad lived from birth to ten.
In a room filled with windows, there
is little room for paintings, yet–
purple bison glide across the prairie,
an Iraqi woman flies through an azure
sky filled with dark blue birds,
a 15th century mystic, Kabir, tells
a tale in poetry, Navaho spirits,
pumas walking toward me–
my obsession.
Rugs scattered–Kerman,
an unknown Persian city, Afghani,
Egyptian, Indian, Zapotec, scraps of old
Turkish rugs sewn together.
In one cabinet, Grandmother’s china,
Mom’s Czech crystal–a wedding present
decades ago, Grandson’s painted art,
the silverware Dad gave Mom on their
first wedding anniversary, Â Mom’s
everyday dishes–flowers blooming.
I use them every day.
These objects–a testament to who I am:
World wanderer, seeker, citizen.
September 1, on the Rim of Wonder
Sunrise
Dappled clouds
Owl hooting
Wren climbing
Later, I graded papers and watched part of John McCain’s funeral, some of which almost brought me to tears. Â I often disagreed with him but never did I question his passionate love of country, his courage, his willingness to buck the norm, to defy convention when he thought it was the right thing to do. Â I think he and I shared certain values on which this country is based even if the country as a whole rarely lives up to them. Â These include the conviction that all people are equal, that everyone deserves justice, and each person carries the right to find his or her own share of happiness without judgment and condemnation from others who may think differently.
Later, while working on the latest book I am writing, I found handwritten recipes written by my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Nellie Narcissus Duke (Kaiser),whose father came here from Switzerland as a child. Â One, for dumplings, remains readable. Â The other written in pencil on the front and back of thin paper is fragile. Â It is for Strawberry Shortcake. Â If Grandmother Duke ever made dumplings, I do not remember it. Â Mother did–chicken and dumplings. Â I wonder if she used this recipe. Â I do remember conversations about the shortcake because Dad did not like strawberry shortcake even though he liked strawberries. Â I took photos of these two recipes written decades ago in my grandmother’s handwriting.
Argentinian Adventure–Iguazu Falls, The Argentinian Side
The largest park is a national park on the Argentinian side. Â There are upper and lower hiking trails with an ecologically friendly train that takes you to where the trails begin. Â For those who want to hike more, you can forget the train and hike through the forest/jungle to where the main trails begin. Â We took the train.
On the upper trail you can cross a portion of the river, cross just above the top of several of the individual falls, and get wet.
The trails on the Argentinian side are impressive feats of engineering. Â I kept wondering how they built them in some of the very daunting places, e.g. over tops of large falls, over the rushing river.
I am standing in the middle of the “bridge” with the same distance over the river in both directions.
You cannot stay in this location very long without getting quite wet. Â The falls are so huge and the spray so extensive, a fine mist floats everywhere. Â Talking normally means no one can hear you because of the roar.
The land to the left is an island. Â Because it constantly receives a fine mist, the plants look lush, glistening with water droplets. Â Gaston said it reminded him of the movie Avatar.
After all this hiking we decided to go to the hotel near the falls for a drink. Â A man and a woman were teaching people how to tango. Â Before I knew it, the guy had me dancing.
The next day we took the lower trail. Â One of the first things we saw was a group of monkeys. Â Although there are signs along the road to please watch out for jaguars because too many get killed at night on the road, we did not see any. Â It occurred to me several times one could have been 50 feet from me near a trail and I would never have guessed–the jungle is too dense.
As you can see to the right in this photo, in many places the trail is right at the edge of the falls and sometimes the trail goes over the top so you are walking over where the falls drop to the gorge below.
The immensity of the falls, the roar and power of the water, the lush jungle–a magical place which filled us with wonder.
Note: Â There are several ways to spell the name of the falls, depending on the language. Â I have used two of the ways. Â The river which makes the falls is the Parana with an accent over the last a.
Adventure in Argentina–Iguazu Falls from a Helicopter
It became very clear to Gaston and me that we would not really get a true perspective of the falls unless we took the helicopter ride our taxi driver/tour guide recommend. Â To do this we once again had to cross to Brazil. Â The company that operates the helicopter rides is Argentinian. Â However, Argentina decided no helicopters on their side because they disturb animals, the environment. Â The ride is short and relatively expensive. Â Gaston protested it cost too much. Â I am conservative about money but thought about it and decided, “I may never be here again. Â Gaston’s last trip here occurred when he was six, nearly two decades ago. Â We are going to do this.” Â This was Gaston’s first helicopter ride.
Even from a helicopter it is nearly impossible to see all the falls at once.
The left side is Brazil, the right Argentina. Â The falls in Argentina continue to the right beyond this photo. Â The immensity of this natural wonder never ceases to amaze.
Sunday Poem
A few years ago Uno Mundo Press published my second book, a book of poems. Â Reviewers say it is a memoir. Â Oddly, that was not the plan; in retrospect, it seems apt. Â The poems’ topics are not chronological but rather via topic with quotations before each topic as a sort of introduction. Â For the foreseeable future, while I continue writing another book, I will post one poem from the book every Sunday.
The book begins with this quotation:
“Do something scandalous to give your descendants something
to talk about when you are gone.” Â Vanessa Talbot
The first section begins with this quote by Judith Jameson, the famous dancer and choreographer:
“I always tell my dancers.
You are not defined by your fingertips,
or the top of you head,
or the bottom of your feet.
You are defined by you.
You are the expanse.
You are the infinity.”
The first poem in the book goes like this:
I Have Lived
Depression, sad days, melancholy.
Gone!
At 26, I said, “To hell with this!
You control you life, live it!”
I tried forbidden liaisons, trained horses,
Traveled around the world, a cobra wrapped around my neck,
Walked the Shalimar Gardens in Kashmir,
Stood before the Jama Masjid in Old Delhi,
Watched the Taj Mahal reflected in still waters,
Walked the streets of Katmandu,
Talked to monks at Shwedagon Pagoda,
Bargained with sticks in dirt, math our only common language,
Downed raw turtle eggs in Costa Rica,
Danced on table tops, sang “Adonai”,
Roamed empty roads across the Navaho Nation,
Divorced four times,
Raised two talented children.
I have lived, running on the rim of wonder.
After the Storm
Stillness
Golden light
Birdsong
Sunset
Peace
Celebrating Earth Day–Photos
I decided the best way I should share my reverence and love for nature and this precious planet on which we live is to share photos from various countries, states, and my own little piece of wonder.
The three photos above were taken at Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Texas about ten minutes from where I live.
Above and below the Rio Grande looking into Mexico.
Four photos above — Big Bend National Park.
Between Marfa and Alpine, Texas.
The Rio Grande north of Albuquerque on the Santa Ana Pueblo Nation.
The above four photos taken in Simien Mountain National Park, Ethiopia. Â The animals are gelada–the only surviving grass eating primates found solely in Ethiopia. Â They actually “talk” to each other.
Menelik’s Window, Ethiopia
Awash Falls, Ethiopia
Where the Blue Nile begins draining from Lake Tana, Ethiopia
The photos above were taken at various places in Costa Rica.
Northern New Mexico
Grand Canyon North Rim
The Missouri River running full.
California dropping down from Sequoia National Monument
Near Lake Marvin, Texas
The above photos were all taken within the last year on my little rim of wonder.
And finally below, my favorite animal.
writingontherim 