anatomy of mid-summer

Had a sort of domestic Zen day today. Anticipating a visit from my good friend in a few days I dedicated myself to cleaning the house and preparing her room (which is also my workroom). Because I didn't resist, it turned out to be not only productive but satisfying -- a meditation in disguise. The house is clean and I found a basket of dolls on top of the tall trastero in the living room that I'd forgotten about a long time ago. They were dusty, but happy as dolls go. The two rag dolls in the left front were embroidered and sewn by my mother when she was a girl. Which makes them about 100 years old! I remember she told me they represented her (blue eyes, auburn yarn hair) and her sister (dark eyes, dark hair). They are in amazingly good condition.

So I dusted everyone off, cleaned the basket and the top of the trastero, and now I don't quite know what to do with them. My house doesn't lend itself to cutesy displays and I'm still in that decluttering mode (will it never end?). And, really, can these old, old, dolls be considered clutter? Can I be considered clutter?

bringing up baby eye to eye

She came close to me yesterday and I touched her for the first time. She is soft the way all babies are soft, and unafraid. Her mother stood close by and didn't seem at all disturbed by my presence.

I spoke softly to both of them and congratulated mother on her beautiful foal (we hadn't had a chance to talk before) -- while the two other mares continued to annoy each other in the background. Kicks and whinnies galore. Jealous? PMSing? Baby is curious about everything and had came by to check out the pile of old adobe bricks slowly melting back into the earth.  How cute is that! Her mother stands between the feuding mares and baby.

A mountainous music always seemed
To be falling and to be passing away.
               Wallace Stevens