The Porch Postscript

Last night I set my Midori up with its 6th journal insert.  I've been using a Midori Traveler's Notebook for nearly a year, and it goes everywhere with me.  I thought I'd share what my setup currently looks like. The exterior is starting to show some lovely scuffing and wear marks.  I've added three charms to my elastic closer and beads were added to the bookmark you see peeking out the bottom.  The happy binder clip serves to hold my pen. The first thing inside is the handmade Midori folder, I created last weekend.  In my setup, it hugs an insert. Inside the folder are a few samples of washi tape and a couple of extra paper clips.  The right side is a generic insert that I picked up at Michaels a while back.  This insert is the one I did some of my InkTober pen and ink in. This is the back of my folder, the inside pocket is currently empty.  The other side is the grid insert from Traveler's Notebook.  This is the insert you see in many of my dai

Jefferson School - Missouri ( 28 July 2008) It’s vacant now; the school at the corner of Franklin and Orchard streets, but that morning as I stood, on what remained of the playground, the laughter of school days gone by could almost be heard. The blacktop has faded and the markings for hopscotch have paled with the sun, but the L shaped red brick building stands silent and alone. Of what once was a pair of swing sets, only poles remain, the framework from which swings once hung. Were the swings removed for safety or stolen by vandals, I do not know, but I can tell you no children play there now. Jefferson School - Missouri (28 July 2008) There is a chain looped through door handles, of a double door, on the south side of the school, locked by padlock. Signs remain telling visitors to STOP, Teachers lounge, go to the main entrance. Many window panes bare the scars of a vandal’s rock thrown. Spray paint mars the walls of the lower level on the north side. Blinds are draw

Sunset on The Osage River - Missouri (08 July 2009) The river,  she dances with delight and turns for spite,  a superhighway,  for speedboats and floaters,  who troll for fish,  snaggers with their catch of spoonbill,  trotlines fill with catfish,  frogs croak and birds sing, nature is busy,  while the water rushes by. by SLMPetersen

The Alaskan Moose - big, grand, beautiful creatures.  Big, grand, pain in the tuchus!  These marvelous beauties have done grand things like eat our garden, drive our crazy dog crazier, and hold me hostage in the house while laying in our front yard. Morning Moose - Alaska (02 November 2016) Outsiders, yes you who watch the "Alaska Reality" shows, think it would be grand to see these beasts from your living room window while sipping a hot toddy and watching the snowfall.  Yes, that a beautiful Hollywood vision, but it's just not reality. Reality is checking your yard before letting your dogs out, as moose have been known to stomp dogs to death.  Reality is they are 500 pounds and will take on a human they see as a threat.  Reality is they are near-sited animals and who see humans, smaller than them, invading their space. Yes.  Big, grand, beautiful creatures, when they aren't found bedded down in your yard from the night before, keeping you from getting to y

Who doesn't fabricate a tale in their mind when they pass a weathered and vacant structure?  I've been doing it since I was a child, traveling across Nebraska on Old Highway 30. Farm House - Nebraska (23 June 2007) When you travel the main highways and byways, you often miss the bits of history in small-town museums, roadside fruit stands, and local mom and pop restaurants.  Travel the back roads and you'll often discover a way of life left behind, as just a memory.  Along with local interests, often come a plethora of run down farms with abandoned houses and dilapidated barns. My mom and I made many trips across the farmland, filled prairie, on a journey to visit family.  Along the way, we had many discussions about how to fix up these abandoned places, what we'd do with the place and what could have led to their demise.  And so was born, was my fascination with the abandoned. Pair the childhood nostalgia with my love of photography and you get a collection o

I read a quote the other day that made my mind wander: Give until your heart is full. How much giving is that?  Two years ago I started sending happy mail.  Giving away what I made.  Spending my own money on postage.  Daydreaming about the smiles that were happening on the receiving end.  Touting that I was doing this project to make myself happy, and no one else.   The truth?  Two years later and I felt empty.  I felt like I gave and gave.  The end result was most often a hollow Facebook message that says "thanks for the cards."   Not what I imagined would happen.  This was not part of the daydream.  I had visions of pen pals and letters dancing in mailboxes.  All the returned messages weren't hollow, but the heartfelt ones didn't feel like enough.  I didn't feel like I was on the right path.  So.  I quit.  I quit sending happy mail.     This isn't the first time I've felt this kind of empty.  I'm a giver, I give and give and give