The flowers are getting sparse. The spiders are working overtime, as are the wasps and hornets. Their time is up. They go out with the flowers.
Shortening days, my darker time is coming. Actually it’s been here since June 21st but I didn’t notice – it was summer, light seemed forever. Night came just in time to catch me so I could gather enough energy for another day.

Now the gathering is done by all the Beings whose nests must serve as pantries. The birds and deer have to get by with what’s left on the bushes and trees – which is why I’m happy to see so many apples and pears out of my reach.

There are some things I can’t fathom the use for. I’m as glad to see these as the pears I cannot reach. Not fathoming something, not knowing means I can keep going. Means I can delve and play, follow a line, an arc, a mood. There’ll be more of that now. More for me to deeply witness because there’s less to see.


It’s Saturday and markets all over the state, all over the country are filled with farmers and those of us wanting to have great food and be better to ourselves.

How can we be better to ourselves than to buy what’s grown and raised around us. How better to take care of what’s ours? If you think about it, it’s weird to buy things from other countries to save money. It’s weird to leave home and only buy from places we’ve never seen and from people we’ll never see.

But today, Saturday, a coolish, overcast day in August, we’re shopping local. We’re seeing our friends, talking, sampling and the best of all – everyone is smiling.


Poetry Month

Poem About My Dog Toby

He’s not asking for forgiveness, my Toby
Sorry he may be for putting his back out
Jumping the fence and running for two hours.
But that is past. What’s passed can be
A second ago. It’s passed. Past. My Toby
Lives only in the moment.
His blinking eye ticks off the seconds, the minutes
Until his next fling. He’s not counting.
He doesn’t count the vet bill. The dog officer’s call.
The $250 bill from the hosts of a party where
He ate so much salmon and steak. All wild caught
And grass fed. This moment is the only
Moment for my Toby. And if you are counting
You are in the past. Toby is present. Here. Now.

Pam White

isn’t he just the cutest?????

I’m Lucky

This morning the cats were all quivery at the windows. The Robins are back! The Voles are out and about and Spring is here. It might be a bit of a mixed message that people are still walking on the lake, but it looks slippery and I know they won’t be walking too much longer.

The ground isn’t frozen and the water from the snowmelt can run deep. The dogs are waiting for that. The poor things have been staggering around for so long.

I am impressed by the New England weather, the largescale work of people, of beavers, the muck of the cows and horses, their hooves churning the soil. But this morning’s vole reminded me of creatures small and smaller who turn the soil, pollinate, feed and support our system of life. Small scale has a big impact.

Last summer when the electricity went out and our generator didn’t go on, we went out to see what was the problem. Snake skins! It was filled with snake skins and we had to get a new motherboard so it would know what to do. The snakes had done in its brain!

I love the time nature gives me by taking away my tasks or giving me new ones. I’m lucky to be counted in its creature load.

The Other Day I Was Singing

The other day I was walking with our dogs in the field alongside our house. I had just watched “About A Boy” for the second or third time and the song “Killing Me Softly” was not leaving my mind. Seriously not leaving. As in the only thing I could hear.

So, I often sing with the dogs, they are the only ones who will hear me without comment. They sometimes perk their ears and look at me if I do some chanting, but a song slips right by them, they are intent on the pace or the smells.

So when I burst into song they didn’t skip a beat. Noses to the ground we kept a leisurely pace and as I got into the second stanza I realized the field was full of dogs. All the dogs I’ve ever walked came to me, all the dogs who have ever sung with me or gone about their business to my song were there.

Zoe and Misha, Dae and Esme, Luna (who always sang with me) and Gordita all romped beside me. Of course on the leashes were Guinnie (Guinivere) and Cho and Jules with Liam(Jack Russell) running like a little motoring thing all round.

And I thought, “The song brought them!” Then I wondered how could I sing so much, how could I have them here all the time. So human of me, so quick to cling and strive!

In a moment I knew it was not the song, but my resonance with the song. My Beingness was full with the song. My Being was not doing anything else. My Being was song. And when that happens, when we are in tune, in sync, in the zone, that’s when we allow what we know, what we want, what we dream to come to us. When we become who we are, then the magic gets in step with us.

If we have a tuning fork set to C and we vibrate it, C will happen. If we have a dream, a feeling, a desire that is set to our truth, it will happen. If we don’t let it all out, if we are afraid of its power, over us, over others  – that’s a projection, because how would we know?

So much of what we do is set to the tune of an outside scale. So much of what we learn is played to music that isn’t quite right for us. It is my belief that we surround ourselves with animals because they are who they are. The hamster isn’t anything but, same for the horse, dog, cat – we’d probably all say “particularly cats!”

We do our best to see that they have species specific and age appropriate living and dietary arrangements. Even in this economy the pet stores are better off than the banks. In my experience we give our pets the benefits we can’t/won’t give ourselves. What would it take for you to look at yourself, feel who you are and what your dreams are and just take a step toward that dream? Do you think you take an extra bite of something, a sweet, bread, T.V.? To get through the anxiety of that truth you just told yourself. Is your idea of what you want so big it feels untenable? Do you stick “I can’t do that without upsetting everything?’ on your dreams?

I’ve rescued greyhounds for twenty years, I watch the new ones come in and look at the stairs. Then they either avoid them (until we teach them) or they look at me and think I want them to do it so they try to go up the whole flight at once. It takes some time for them to chunk the task down and go up or down one or two at a time. This is important for us too. How often do we think we have to “do it all?’ How often do we get accolades for how much we do, for how much we take care of? We are programmed for Doing. We are also programmed for Being. We can access both and we’re smart enough to play with the difference.

Give your song a sing, a chance. See how many steps can be taken to your dream. Chunk them down, patience is precious, patience is gold. Give yourself the time and space to be full with your accomplishments. Every day find the ten or twenty things you love, you cherish. Every day find the ten or twenty things you want to do, want to have done when you look back. Look back, see what you’ve done. See if keeping your desk or kitchen neat is in the best service of you and your unique talents. Find the nut of you. You are the only one you are. No body thinks, looks, acts like you, has your genius. Don’t expect anyone to be you or guess you or think you. And, please, don’t expect anybody to live you. You’re the boss of this one, you’re the only one who can do It!

Give in to your nature. Be yourself. Trust. Your Self is waiting for you. Be the Self worth waiting for!

This Is My Dog Beeker

This is me with my dog Beeker when I was about 8. It was taken by a friend of my father’s from Australia who came to visit us every few years. This is important to me because he seemed so normal and what he did was so exotic and exciting to me. I longed to go somewhere. Be somewhere else. I longed to hit the road with a camera and feel the wind in my face.

His name, what was his name, he was a friend of Uncle Sid’s, someone my father had gone to MIT with – even he was cool. They’d been at MIT together – last class of steam engineering – and then Sid had decided to become a doctor and he’d gone back to school – MIT – to end up a plastic surgeon . He was funny when he told stories about all the ears he’d pinned back on people – people were upset by their ears sticking out, I don’t know if they still are, I don’t hear about it much.

So this friend of Uncle Sid’s came and asked me to let him take my picture. This was only possible if I had Beeker at my side. Beeker was actually my sister’s dog but I was around and she wasn’t and Beeker became mine.

Now you should know that Beeker never in his life had a rope around him. Never was tied, there were no leashes. We lived on a farm with hundreds of acres around us and the dogs and I grouped ourselves by choice, we were always together. But I remember so clearly getting the rope and how important it was to me, how important to show the connection physically, palpably.

I’m so proud of this photograph. I love it, I love that someone exotic took it even if I can’t remember his name. There I was in the middle of this big country and got my picture taken with my shirt and my dog on a day I will always remember. Beeker and I were connected, we still are. He has been back several times now in this lifetime of mine and I keep him close to me, I keep him palpable and secure.

Esme – Greyhound Friend She rescued me when I rescued her

Today, Monday, is the last time – at 4:30 pm – that I’ll

Be able to say, “last week Esme was…”

My heart is a landslide of rubble, scary places, bad footing.

Now, this day, this minute a week ago I was lying next to her

I was taking her head in my hand, I was feeling her pulse

Her breath, her eyes on me. I felt her limbs be cold in an odd way.

I won’t forget that. I felt her warm belly. I felt her warm ears

And her cold nose and I thought and thought breathing with her

As I was, breathing without thinking of breath, or that thing that rhymes with it.

That point on the trajectory of each life that seeks level, that is level.

Everything else is up and down, hot and cold, short and long.

But death is a flat line. Death is a long time. Death is No More.

Today, Monday, it is 1:45pm. I didn’t know. I had no clue.

When I put her in my car she was breathing. It never occurred to me

She would stop. Or anything. Nothing much was occurring – and everything.

Halfway there I knew. I kept driving. But I knew.

And didn’t wouldn’t couldn’t know – no.

A week ago right now I had no clue. What a blessing.

Her life was a blessing. She blessed me. Her every move

Her looks – they were “come hither” and I did

I can’t bear to put a period with these sentences

Time will tell

Time is telling me

This is Monday, it is almost 2

I still have 2 ½ hours left

And I don’t even know it

Pam White


I was so engulfed in your death

So overcome with it – the grief, the sudden

Emptiness, goneness, I forgot to look

Through your eyes at the love

You always showed me, shared with me

I forgot to feel your heart, the expansiveness, the joy

Of your surrender. I forgot to see who

Was doing all that, who was really there.

It was just us. We two. And we

Are still, as long as I remember

To look through your eyes

Feel with your heart

Breathe, embrace with your spirit.

It always was the only way to go and

It remains so.