Tuesday, April 21, 2015



                                                                  for Sam

Sweetheart and I are both down with very bad colds, or maybe it's the flu? It’s been years since we’ve experienced this sort of wrangle, and after a tough winter. Not fair! Have to laugh.

I can hear the goldfinch calling out in the rain as I type. Most of the snow is gone except for the snow that always lasts until May 1st at the back door. A big pile there. I checked yesterday.

I tore down the old duck shed/tool shed I built 35 years ago of salvaged lumber — pine boards and even the oak floor joists I yanked out of this main house when I renovated in 1977. The joists were heavy gang plank mothers, worked perfectly in the old shed for the roof. Lasted. This time around I slid them out and bucked them up for firewood and now they heat the very room where I once pulled them from. You can go home again.

I salvaged 3/4 of the old lumber and have now built a tool room extension to the studio building. It sort of looks like Thoreau’s hut with his woodshed addition. It will take the mowers (which you don’t like) and all other tools for landscape work. I got it framed up, raftered, purlined, and sheathed over the weekend. Just to put on the white cedar wall shingles and evergreen steel roof. Let all future snowfalls slide off.

I’ll also put a blue steel roof on the stone hut in May. It will turn 30, with Carson.

© Bob Arnold
Spring 2015


Monday, April 20, 2015




Early morning climb to the roof

Cold dew on pebbled tar, taste of

The galvanized nails in your mouth

Work — nail shingle to shingle tight —

Each hammer pound echoes another

Pound in the hills, enough to wonder

Where it ends and who hears it then


© Bob Arnold 

from Where Rivers Meet
Mad River Press 1990 


Sunday, April 19, 2015


Anywhere You Look

in the corner of a high rain gutter

under the roof tiles

new grasses' delicate seed heads

what war, they say


Jane Hirshfield

Knopf 2015

Saturday, April 18, 2015


Joan Colom
I Work the Street
photographs 1957-2010
Museu Nacional D'Art de Catalunya

Joan Colom at work

Friday, April 17, 2015

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Wednesday, April 15, 2015



I awoke in the middle of the night to find

A horse standing quietly over my bed.

My friend, I'm so glad you're here, I said,

It's snowing and you must've been cold

And lonely in your stable down the road

With the farmer and his wife both dead.

I'll throw a blanket over you and check

If there is a lump of sugar in the kitchen,

Like the one I saw a man in a top hat

Slip to a mare in a circus, but I fear you might

Be gone when I get back, so I better stay

And keep you company here in the dark.


The Lunatic
Ecco, 2015