Sunday of the Visitation

Sunday of the Visitation

A trip up to Bellingham brought old and other worlds together today. We gathered in Jess’ living room to begin a conversation about the language of power and the language of love related to this article:

On my way home I turned right at the old familiar corner of F street and Dupont, and spied Dale the neocappadocian, that old lion, ambling down the road with a carton of coffee. I pulled over and gave him a ride home, where we shared wine on his small porch and talked snippets and places. He told me about the significance of the day – you can read about it for yourself at – and we made a passable visit. We talked about ducks and raccoons and the sound that bugs make, about intergenerational groups and the making of world peace and how it doesn’t matter where we are when the shit goes down, we’ll be going down too.  Here’s a link to a story about Dale from one of the local papers –

Brought back old times, did today. All my relations.

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Cascadian wordsmith and reluctant scorpio, with a fondness for honey, trees, and ducks, as well as birds on the wing and orange kitties.

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