the chill of changing seasons
with only a packed hoodie to protect
can make it difficult to do anything
but re-watch supernatural
and embroider tiny cacti
over thin blue lines
and snuggle under a blanket
and hope tomorrow will be warm enough
to explore
(again)
Vermont
September 14, 2020
[a letter to Louka the dog]
i hope, Louka, you are enjoying this vacation
and you find it a nice respite
from the loud scary traffic of New York
and i hope, Louka, you won’t be too devastated
when, in five days, we go back home
and no longer have forests to explore
and backyard decks to hang out on
and clean breezes to fill your lungs with.
and mostly, Louka, i hope that you do love us
and in everything are having a better life
than your first six years.
September 13, 2020
when you wear a hoodie
with a skeleton dabbing
above the word ‘depression’
in New York City
no one ever bats an eye
but when you wear a hoodie
with a skeleton dabbing
above the word ‘depression’
in small town Vermont
multiple people ask you if everything’s ok
to which you reply ‘humor is a great coping mechanism!’
and then you quickly dab your way out of the Walgreens.
September 10, 2020
if only the heavy [pitter]patter of the rain falling all around us calmed down my dog as much as it excites my very being i suppose i shall simply be content in the fact that she looks to us for comfort.
September 9, 2020 (part 2)
a mouse in the kitchen
but no chaos in the house
we coax the little guy into
a glass cup
and gently carry him out the door
down the steps
across the yard
to the cover of some brush
all the while i tenderly sing
‘it’s ok, baby, it’s ok, it’s ok.’
and if humanity has the capacity
to reassure creatures who don’t understand our language
can we try to speak a little more kindly to each other?
September 9, 2020
it is slightly more sweater weather than ice cream weather but when else is going to be the perfect time to eat “Vermont’s Finest” Ben & Jerry’s than outside overlooking these green mountains?
September 8, 2020
campfire
noun
a small fire at a campsite or in a yard, usually circular and often surrounded by stones or bricks
bonfire
noun
1) a large fire at an event or celebration
2) what the Farr/Twitchell household called our campfires
gas fire
noun
a confusing accoutrement that allows a fire to be maintained on a wooden deck for immediate morning enjoyment on a daily basis
see also: vacation bliss
September 7, 2020
when a small animal scratching from inside the walls
wakes you up like
your cat scratching at your apartment door
before six am
it is always a good idea to
heat up some coffee
and go outside with your kip and your dog
to watch the sun rise
(even if you can’t see the sun past the tree line)
what is it about
the rattle of an old farm house
basement heater
that makes me feel so
automatically
cozy?
September 6, 2020
a hummingbird knocked on our window this morning
and invited us with her to a fairy grove
we splashed in the icy cool creek waters
and slid up and down the hill valley roads
the dog was not so sure about the mini waterfalls
and i was not so sure about the steep decline
but before it gets too cold and snowy up here
it’s nice to call Vermont a two-week home.
September 5, 2020
when one is used to long long car trips
four hours feels like nothing.
and when hours and hours and hours of driving
usually requires an audio distraction,
shorter distances can be all conversation
(and you can fall in love all over again,
even without first falling out)
kipventures 