cowboys and caravans

late night pork rolls.

truck nap
while the band plays on.

drunken cowboys
turning out the

These Things Are Your Becoming

drifting in and out.
packing. sorting. purging.
letting go feels a little bit easier this time.
practice makes perfect. or something like that.

this spring brought its’ full share of sorrows.
forced to look the fear in the eye
again and again.
make the choice to see the beauty
and find the good
all the while
the heart
it breaks.
still learning to live with, and love, the questions.

making choices and changes
in hopes of bringing more
more light
more space
into my life.
saying no to stuckness.
saying yes to all the things that make me feel alive.

it’s too short, this season of living.
even though, sometimes, the days feel so long.
these things are my becoming.
i want to live them all.

pile it up, let it go

1. farm fields at sunset with four-leggeds and best friends. doesn’t get much better than that.

2. re-arranging furniture…again.there are always possibilities, even in the smallest space. never ceases to delight me. is there a career in that?

3. listening to some Andrew James O’Brien. yup.

4. how does a small life aquire so many things?

5. the birds are singing in your eyes today

6. Lemon Blueberry Cornmeal muffins still hot from the oven. making this rainy night smell so good.

7. i can’t wait till i get to eat more of this:

8. i have shelves full of books that i’ve never read. i’ve moved them in boxes from one house to the next. i like the way they look. the way they feel. i like the idea of them. but they’re strangers to me still. stories i’ve never met. just covers or titles or writers i thought i might like or want or read.
enough already, rae.
read them or let them go.

9. love.

10. this season of newness really is a wonder.

a bird in the house

Two Crows by Radiator - Paul Cox Couet

Two Crows by Radiator – Paul Cox Couet

how she got in here
remains a mystery.
there was no swinging door
or open window.

when she arrived i’ll never know.
i came home to the sound of her wings flapping,
her black body, bright yellow beak, soaring over my head
as i climbed the last of the steep stairs to the kitchen.

a curious bird
is all i can suppose.

or lonely, i guess.

and while a bird in the house
on any other day
may have seemed like a problem that needed to be solved,
on this day
of all days
it felt more like a gift.

a story.
a poem.
a something i never expected.

a blackbird knocking at my kitchen door.

so i let her stay.

i gave her space
and i gave her time,
choosing to believe that if she got herself in here
she could figure how to get herself out.

do onto others, you know?
it’s how i was raised.

i left the light on for her
and said goodnight. i think we both slept sound in this little nest.
in the morning i heard the flap of her wings ringing a bell
and i crept out to find her perched on the window
watching me.

a little while later she left,
taking her exit as mysteriously as she did her arrival.

i’ll let you keep your omens and your signs.
just let me have the wonder, the mystery.

give me the story.
the poem.
the something i never expected.

i’m a curious bird
i suppose.

or lonely,
i guess.

give me a blackbird knocking at my kitchen door.

i’ll let her stay.



“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

― Kurt Vonnegut











not cool, Robert Frost.

but what if there really were two paths?
I want to be on the one that leads to awesome.

kid prez

this just made my day. (thanks joon!).stop whatever you’re doing and watch it. for real.

kid president

kid president

snow day

1. mint hot chocolate.
2. parka and track pants and a shovel.
3. Lisa Congdon’s colourful illustrations and good words.

lisa congdon

lisa congdon

4. loving my wintery treetop attic view
5. empty suitcase and a pile of clothes.
6. Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. it just works for me. you know?
7. finally got around to reading and finishing Blankets. not sure what i’d expected but i don’t think that was it.
blankets by Craig Thompson

blankets by Craig Thompson

8. “the scared is scared of the things we like”
9. the gift of unexpected hours.
10. a favorite by one of my favorites:

he knows.

it’s late and i’m sitting in the kitchen, in the old wooden rocking chair, while the last tray of muffins are finishing their bake. i’m tired, and so is the dog, who’s been sleeping and dreaming and draft-stopping in front of the door for the last few hours. we walked tonight, in the moonlight, on snow that looked like diamonds, and i swear that four-legged looked up at me, smiling, the whole way.

me and him.

me and him.

so long ago we were dancing and singing and it all meant something.

frozen pipes.
blueberry cornmeal muffins.
boxes of books.
finally writing back.
hot cocoa with candycane.
yoga in the afternoon.
open mouth kisses.
giving ideas legs.
drying laundry on a wooden rack.
cleaning out the medicine cabinet.
getting only what i came for.
sponge bath.
slow drip.
baking bread.
cleaning up.
being home. enjoying it.
oh yeah,
and this.

The Two of Us by Mandy Renard

The Two of Us by Mandy Renard

it’s not everything, but it’s enough.

Otis and Janis and Lauryn are serenading me in random rotation
while bread bakes and scones are prepped
and rain falls
and this night kitchen warms
my tired bones.

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Words + Photos + Credit

Unless otherwise noted, all original photography and text are property of Raechelle Kennedy. If you see or read something here and feel inspired to share it somehow, please be considerate and give the artist (me!) credit, or even better, drop me a note and make sure I don’t mind.
Thank you!

Here + There

Secondhand Sainthood and the gift of losing it all – Topology Magazine, December 2015

Ten Things Made – Topology Magazine, December 2015