Tag: reflections

“Blurtso looks at the snow” (IX)


I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much snow. There’s no use trying to go anywhere. Or trying to do anything. It’s like a day that fell through the calendar, a day without a number. Perfect for a book and a blanket. And another cup of cocoa.

“Blurtso looks at the snow” (V)


The snow is collecting on the frame of the windows. Collecting, melting, and collecting. I wonder if my windows are laminated? It’s quite warm in here, so they must be laminated. I wonder how much energy I’ve stored from my solar panel? I’m glad I have straw. Straw is a good insulator. I could be warm in the straw even if my windows are unlaminated. I should make a thermos of chocolate while I still have power. I could be happy with a thermos of chocolate and straw even if my windows are unlaminated and I don’t have power. Hmmm… the snow is really collecting on the frame of the windows.

“Blurtso looks at the snow” (II)


I wonder how long it will snow? I can hear every little noise in the barn. I can hear the kettle and the ticking of the clock. And the refridgerator… I wonder if Harlan finished the pumpkin pie?

“Bonny and Pablo hit the hay” (I)


It must be midnight, said Pablo. I can hear the last train to Boston. Imagine all the people, staring out the windows, seeing their reflections in the glass… and the darkness beyond. I wonder what they’re thinking? I don’t know, said Bonny. Is there any more popcorn?

“Blurtso reflects on his reflection”


Isn’t that an odd shape, thought Blurtso, staring at his reflection in the water. That nose, so round and ponderous, like a boxing glove, and that smug little smile, and those attentive, pin-point eyes. What a strange thing it is, that shape, my shape, staring at my shape, that shape. Boxing-glove nose, big and white, grey body, dark-grey hoofs, perked-up ears above attentive eyes. Tuft of hair atop his head. Atop my head. My head housing pin-point eyes looking at his head. Housing looking housing looking. Blurtso one and Blurtso two. Blurtso one and Blurtso too. Double Blurtso smiling smugly, me to me. What does he see when he looks into me? What does he think when he thinks of me? Does he think who on earth could he be? And what’s the heart of this mystery?

“Morton’s Pond” (XXVI)

“Sights” – Stillness of sky. Stillness of lake. Joined in reflection. Clouds blown together, clouds blown apart. Spider, fly, eater and eaten, diner and dinner, survivor and snack… joined in reflection.

“Morton’s Pond” (XIX)

“Sounds” –  Another day with Pablo. Listening to him talk to me and listening to me talk to him. I could also hear Bonny and Ditto by the lake. I think they were painting because I could smell the paint. There were large patches of silence between the words they were saying. Or maybe the patches of silence were when I was listening to Pablo or myself talk.

“Morton’s Pond” (II)

“Sights” – Many trees. A lot of last year’s leaves. And oh yes, I saw a bug that might have been a deer tick. But since I’ve never seen a deer tick, I can’t be sure. I suppose you can’t be sure about something until you can.

“Blurtso looks at the snow” (XX)


It’s late now and most everyone is home. Resting and reflecting on the day, what went right and what went wrong, what to look forward to and what to dread. Or they’re filling their eyes and ears with electric sights and sounds, while their heart, alone beneath the surface, reflects on the day.