janette kennedy

  • Apple Blossoms

    On December 31st of last year, which seems so long ago, I wrote a post entitled Playing the Long Game. Well, here we are, all playing the long game, managing a deeper level of uncertainty than most of us have ever known. A few days ago, I found myself intensely annoyed at everything and no creative energy to balance it. I took a walk outside and decided to take pictures of everything that is growing now into this new spring. In this moment, when I couldn't find the internal creativity, and intro…

  • Swamp Milkweed

    They told me it was needed and I didn’t disagree. “Just not right now” I thought “Tomorrow, after my plans for right now, for what I can see" But then the winter came like an insomniac autumn that never went to sleep and fills a slurry of mud into all the spots that were supposed to be frozen. A front of new rains threatens to seep deep down and pull at the layers of mud that have been here for decades, to show us the rocks that everyone, or everything, sits on: jagged peaks and emptiness border…

  • Stepping Back

    As I walked through the warm water, I could feel every muscle dip and pull that went into each stride. Movement in a water therapy pool is rarely isolated. It is a process, a medium of drift, always in motion. As I stepped forward, I noticed my thoughts coalesced to the singular direction as muscle memory took over and I was concerned with moving toward the goal. I felt the momentum of my stride pushing me forward even in the effort that it took to keep going. Sometimes it takes more effort to s…

  • Playing the Long Game

    Two years ago a huge oak tree fell down in our backyard. The tree gave me many a metaphor before it fell, and afterwards, the richness of opportunity has only grown. It permeates my work as I, like the insects scavenging through crevice and pulp, glean all that I can from the life and loss of the tree. I’ve had to deal with the recurring question of how to manage the land that is now open. The clay soil left over lacked vegetation. It sunk with the rains and hardened in fierce baking sun. I beg…

  • this side of chaos

    Most of the time you can only start from where you are. In telling stories, we need beginnings, but it doesn't take long when looking at real life to realize that whatever beginning we choose is ultimately an arbitrary point. Something else has preceded, caused, or influenced the beginnings. Nevertheless, for our own sanity, and because we need to anchor ourselves, we choose beginnings, middles, and ends. We need this structure for language, to communicate, to make sense of the complexity and la…


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