Linda Hogan
There are times when I just crave the writings of my favorite authors. I have been away from my books for a few months now and really haven't been able to buy any or check any out of any library. SO I went online to see what I could read of Linda Hogan's recent writings.
It is no great coincedence that I woke up this a.m. to find an 8 point buck right off the front of my cabin. I had gotten up around 6 , went outside and he was just right there. He watched me for a few moments and then non-chalantly sauntered away.
SO tonight looking for something good to read I came across this poem on her page.
Deer Dance
(from "Rounding the Human Corners")
This morning when the chill that rises up from the ground is warmed,
the snow is melted where the small deer slept.
See how the bodies leave their mark.
The snow reveals their paths on the hillsides,
the white overcrossing pathways into the upper meadows
where water comes forth and streams begin.
With a new snow the unseen becomes seen.
Rivers begin this way.
At the deer dance last year,after the clashing forces of human good and evil,
the men dressed in black,
the human women mourning for what was gone,
the evergreen sprigs carried in a circle
to show the return of spring.
That night, after everything human was resolved,
a young man, the chosen, became the deer.
In the white skin of its ancestors,wearing the head of the deer
above the human head with flowers in his antlers,
he danced,beautiful and tireless,until he was more than human,until he, too, was deer.
Of all those who were transformed into animals,the travelers
Circe turned into pigs,the woman who became the bear,
the girl who always remained the child of wolves,
none of them wanted to go back to being human.
And I would do it, too, leave off being human
and become what it was that slept outside my door last night.
One evening I hid in the bush south of here
and watched at the place where they shed their antlers
and where the deer danced, it was true,as my old grandmother said,
water came up from the ground
and I could hear them breathing at the crooked river.
The road there I know, I live here,and always when I walk it
they are not quite sure of me, looking back now and then to see that I am
still
far enough away, their gray-brown bodies,the scars of fences,the fur never quite straight,
as if they'd just stepped into it.
You too can read more of her writings and see her web page at :
http://www.lindahoganwriter.com/
An old fruit label that looks like it could be from around these parts where all plants and veggies, fruits are seemingly enormous!
One of my old leaf print/watercolors that reminds me of the rich diversity of my colorful 
Cesar Chavez
Frida and Diego
Peace Now.
U.S .
Peace is Patriotic!!!
Pink Rhody by The Lodge
Lupines near the Meadows
Thanks Ike! 
Traveling Altar Collage
Foxglove/Digitalis
Oregon Iris Beauty
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