Out to the Swell

Out to the desert, past the mountains and through the inversions. We had ice and snow, sun and a goodly amount of solace to celebrate another year of being a family on the edge of the civilized world.
That's what it means to be a Burningham, I reckon, to be comfortable at the periphery and happy in the knowledge that even if we aren't exactly acceptable, we've got some excellent friends and family, and we're happy to be a part of their lives.
It's sure nice to go out to the wilderness and play, though.

Christmas

Christmas was spent at the cabin up the hill. Warm and hopeful with a newly installed stove and a newly installed baby, hikes and fresh air made the long night and late morning splendid.

Brynni's Number N-n-n-n-nineteen

None of them received a hero's welcome.

But we headed up to Steve and Kathy's house to skate, though. 

Happy, happy, Bryn.

Ianto Vigge

On the selfsame day as Miya was born six years before, the Drie gave birth to a boy we named Ianto.

With a weight of twelve pounds and thirteen ounces and a height of twenty-five inches, he made quite an initial impact around here. 

Glad tidings to the world from our place to yours.

The Sun or Deer

The abstract becomes terrible, 

especially when unable to taste salts in the ocean

full gone toward a notion and grasping hope having become 

tuneful and fearful at last,

the other as a shared notion is

stacked and multiplied, clipped and untoward as humans can be

toward another whose face, 

like mine,

quests for a opening, bright door.

In meeting and recognition of smiles,

we shore up faith, 

images to be fulfilled and walk on and on and outward

toward the sparkling and unhinged night-

our world is not for the night, but rather the day when 

the exchange is open

and, in meeting and rejection of expressions, 

entropy within an inherently emotive system

enthrones the fastest, remorseless runners.

Up from the earth and outward n tight circles

dogwood, lilacs, and willows wait

dormant and smooth, perpendicular to the mother

and with sweet juices reserved, tuneful and without fear, 

they wait for the sun or the deer

mindful of nothing but a state of faithless eminence

in truth, we are all immobile

and as abstract as they,

though free to pretend toward something else 

that will be destroyed.

Tall Paul

In my little brother's words, from a post he put onto the BookyFace the situation my dear old dad's dealing with:

On November 8th, my dad was almost killed. I'm not trying to be dramatic or crass. I'm stating a fact that my dad, for all intents and purposes, could be dead right now. But he is not. Instead, he continues to be an example to me of hard work in the face of adversity. He has a shattered pelvis. A broken femur. 7 broken ribs. A broken sternum. A collapsed lung. He tore a hole in the sac surrounding his heart. He was knocked unconscious. His left knee won't move. But here he is, 13 days later, enduring pain, smiling in a picture for me. Glad you're still with me, dad. And I want to say "thank you" to everyone for their thoughts and prayers during the past two weeks. Believe me; they were felt and appreciated. Miracles happen and prayers are answered.

So there you go. They're down in Phoenix and I'm here doing my thing with my small-town BurningNation, trying to keep the ship afloat. I sure appreciate those two men and what they do for their families. I wouldn't be doing what I do without them.

All That Remains

The season's period of reflection and sleep is becoming active, or should I say, dormant. Many deaths and near misses coming to my awareness these days, touching my heart. That's the way the cold months are, much of the time; I reckon some day when we come back to a full realization of how connected we are to environment and the greater cosmos, we'll understand how important light and warmth and hope are to the human condition, not just as commodities and products to sell and trade.
How will we ever make it through this flux and ebb, this uncertainty and imminent death of front lawns and hibernation of porches? Eventually, we won't, that's the eminent truth of it, but my immediate hope is to make sense enough of the situation as it is that I can learn from what's going on enough to incorporate the lessons into our family's ethos and mythos...