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Posted in 2018

There’s a little butterfly in all of us 🦋

Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.     

Nathaniel Hawthorne

I was working in my garden today (actually I was playing)  when I noticed this butterfly alight on a leaf near me. It looked so pretty, sunlight bouncing off its wings that I stooped in for a closer look and a picture to show others. Truthfully it made me feel happy. How could that be? It wasn’t doing anything special.  But it’s very existence was special to me. Butterflies speak of peace and good will. They speak of change, rebirth and happy endings.  I had one of those mindful moments. Questions fluttered through my mind.

What has this little butterfly seen of the world in its journeys? Does it think about how important it is to the flowers as it flutters along , pollinating the natural kingdom? I picture it singing a happy tune, and even though it’s life is short I doubt I’d hear a mumbling word of complaint. What would that song sound like? Does it know it’s creator? Could it lead me there?  Or do butterflies just soar?  Some questions don’t get answered do they? I weave these thoughts, coccooned around my heart as the butterfly flies away.

The day has been long. Night has drawn its shuttered eyes, and I will do likewise. But before I go I leave you with this little Cinquain to ponder❤️ Vcl©️

    Butterfly

    Tissue white, graceful

      Chasing the wind, laughing

        Happy little thing

      Wings

 

Featured
Posted in 2018

Oatmeal raisin cookies~ The great divide

Ya’ll remember the lines spoken by the minister at a wedding ceremony that go like this.  “If there is anyone here today, who knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”?

45 Years later I now daydream through that scenario…picturing someone, a sister, mother or even one of the church potluck team ladies jumping up and waving from the back of the church, “Raisins, he hates raisins, your marriage is doomed!” Then they exit  with maniacal laughter. (It’s my daydream 😀)

We thought we had covered all the important stuff, like children, money, pets and who’s family to visit on each holiday, but like so many couples we felt completely blindsided by seemingly trivial preferences that can change the relationship landscape forever.🤭

Like raisins.   “I thought raisin pie was your favourite?” piped up my husband’s mother after he refused a slice at a Sunday meal visit soon after our marriage.  “No,”said Ken emphatically. I dislike cooked raisins actually. I prefer pumpkin. I hate how cooked raisins squish in my mouth. Like polyps I imagine.”

I wondered how many raisin pies he had choked down through the years and now, as a grown man at last he was taking a stand. No more cooked raisins for him! Free at Last!

Well it actually turns out that there have been very few cooked raisins for anyone in our family. You can pretty well say it has been a raisin free environment. Thank God(truly) for cranberries. Life has been tolerable. I must admit though it has made me a bit of a raisin warrior. Today, while travelling, we stopped at Tim’s for a coffee and donuts treat. There in the case before me I spied the most amazing oatmeal cookies with raisin deliciousness.

I ordered one and my husband ordered a luscious peanut butter.  The clerk accidentally placed two raisin cookies in the bag. My heart stopped…for just the soupçon of a second…waving frantically I alerted her to her error. “Sorry, she said. “Now you have 2 raisin cookies because once out of the case I can’t put it back.  Do you want both? I indicated that while I was excited about the prospect of  TWO raisin cookies….but my husband was not. She added the peanut butter one. Phew, crisis averted! My husbands eye rolls were hard to miss. He whispered that I could enjoy twice the punishment.

So today I am mindful that We need not think alike to love alike.” ~Ferenc David

In fact for me in that moment, while I recognized my raisin cookie need, and fulfilled it, I was entirely conscious that my husband wouldn’t  feel the same bliss. And then I realized I cared.  Somewhere, all wrapped up in our childhood memory of the seemingly miles and miles of raisins, we had reached two different conclusions. And that is ok. Because we love each other in spite of our differences.

Me: I hate guacamole.  Ken: What?How can you hate guacamole? 🙄

 

 

Featured
Posted in 2018

Sunflowers ~T’is the seasoning

Sunflowers say summer more than any other flower.
As part of the daisy family, they are cultivated for their edible seeds. Every road trip in our family begins with a trip to the store to ensure enough “spits” to fill a few empty coffee cups along the way.

I read that the sunflower’s name comes from its tendency to reposition itself to face the sun. It’s genus, Helianthus, is rooted in two Greek words — “helios” meaning sun and “anthos” meaning flower.

The ancient Greek myth of Apollo and Clytie is one explanation of why  sunflowers turn towards the sun. In this story Clytie, a nymph, adored Apollo. At first, he loved her back, but soon he fell in love with Leucothoe. Because of her jealousy, Clytie told Leucothoe’s father of the relationship and he punished her by burying her alive.

In anger, Apollo turned her into a flower, but even in flower form she still loved him and would spend her days watching him as he moved the sun across the sky in his chariot, just like sunflowers move to face the sun. 🌻

In 2013 my husband and I visited the Rikkmuseum in Amsterdam. We were excited to view amazing art and I particularly liked Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

I share his enthusiasm evidently…..❤️ I wonder if he would prefer regular seasoning or all dressed?

“The sunflower is mine, in a way.”
Vincent van Gogh

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Featured
Posted in 2018

The earth weeps~What listening ears?

The Earth weeps

And the sound of her sobs

Has fallen upon deaf ears

Or met with a look of scorn

How dare she wallow

In loud suffering

Is she not bedrock

solid foundation

to our future generations?

Is she not blessed

We have come and gone

Are not our footprints eternal?

Do we brazenly shout

Into the abyss

Scream at the unknown

Rip out tree and root

Poison our affections

Abuse our children

Or despite our insistence

That we slough off

Old wives tales

Are our ears perked

Listening for the voice

Of absolution ?

Listen deeply

for it may only come

Once..  vcl©️

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Posted in 2018

Unsettled ~ As the wind

I make things complicated for myself and chaotic, so I feel unsettled, and then the challenge is to make something structured and complete emerge from that.

❤️Jessica Stockholder

I am packing for a trip. A short jaunt. But packing unsettles me. Do I really need 3 pairs of shoes? What if it rains? Where are my sunglasses?….and the beat goes on, la dee dah. Experience has shown that I overpack. If I’m not careful I will let my joy get stolen. And the ransom may be  more than I want to pay.

So I’ve taken a breather. My packing will be complete. It always does. I  am writing a poem to celebrate my freedom from packing blues, spilling chaotic thoughts, into a summer night wind that’s reflecting summer’s heat. ❤️

As the wind

my mind is wafting

in and out

of conscious thought

whirling in a sea

of mysteries

Stirring up what

they aught not

Breathing in

unsettling whispers

knocking down

old barriers worn

Ancient beliefs

toppled

scattered

scorned

anticipating

wintry storms

mulling

o’r what really matters

life

             Unsettled as the wind.    vcl©️

Featured
Posted in 2018

Where old flowers never die 💐

“The Louvre is a good book to consult, but it must only be an intermediary. The real and immense study that must be taken up is the manifold picture of nature.” – Paul Cezanne

I was perusing old photos today and amongst the pile, this one kinda stood out. There is an old saying by Osho that sums up my thoughts.. He says….

“If you love a flower, don’t pick it up. Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love.
So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.”

I was mindful. I didn’t pick it up with my hands. I did snap a picture though and take it home with me.  I now can pick up this flower whenever I choose and it still gives me joy. The same joy that I felt when I first saw it. See the lush tones? The pinks and greens, each petal and flower a masterpiece? The open invitation to smell its nectar? If only it was scratch and sniff…if only to share with you dear reader…for my memory can conjure its perfume even now.  🎶I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart …where? …down in my heart to stay.   🎶

 

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Posted in 2018

Tradition’s sweet side 🥞

I know that everything essential and great originated from the fact that the human being had a homeland and was rooted in tradition.” Martin Heidegger

This past week I received a call from one of my daughters asking if I would like a jar of her first batch of crabapple jelly. I was so excited to be picked as a taste tester!  It was her first try at canning and her excitement was catchable, as she had not shown an interest in this ancient art, although I had done a lot of it in her growing up years.

Canning brings back so many memories of my childhood. I remember my mother carefully washing jars, lids, and rings. While they air dried, I can remember her washing the cucumbers and making the brine for the dill pickles. Then taking the jars and filling them with either sliced cucumbers or whole small cucumbers.

She’d pour the brine into the jars and lower them into the canner. After they boiled for a time, she’d carefully lift them out, line them in neat little rows, and cover them. We’d all anxiously wait for that loud “pop” that let us know that the jars were sealed properly. Oh the memories!!!

Each newly harvested fruit and veggie had its own place in the canning que. One year I counted 82 quarts of strawberries. They were all gone by New Years 😳

Well, needless to say, the crabapple jelly is delicious, especially on Cobb’s bread transformed into French Toast that was to die for…..❤️ There’s the picture to prove it😍

Next we tackle dills…but canning is so much easier today because after you fill your jars and close them, you just stick them in the dishwasher and after a complete cycle…voila …Done! Except we still wait for the “pop”. It’s just tradition.

 

Featured
Posted in 2018

Roots ~Thinking of words

“I’ll have 2 of those Nutella donuts” I smiled at the cashier, fumbling in my bag for change. Handing it to her , I reached to grasp the bag she extended. When she handed me a second bag I realized she had got my order wrong. “You are giving me the wrong ones, you silly girl” were the words on the tip of my tongue.

But I didn’t spew them out because I was thinking of Words as Roots. Angry Words that become rooted in the soft flesh of the heart and grow unchecked until they choke the life out or get ripped out.

I thought “Let that not be me today, let the words I say have soft roots with lovely fragrant flowers that can be gathered from the heart and passed along to others. So I said ” No worries, I’ll take them…for later, so don’t worry about the overcharge. In fact I will take the others I wanted too. I saw the relief in her eyes as she filled my order.

Later, after my husband returned from a class he was attending, we had coffee at the hotel and I presented him my offering of 2 slightly squished Nutella donuts. “Yummy” he said.❤️ #Timhortons

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Posted in 2018

Life ~ with ice cream

 

 

 

We celebrated our 45th Wedding  Anniversary yesterday.

With ice cream. Hot fudge brownie sundaes. Two of them.

We joke as usual, we aren’t ready to share, yet.

But we bought the same flavour. Perhaps that’s the secret of 45 years and beyond.

“All that is not eternal is eternally out of date.”
C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

I thank God for ice cream ❤️

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Posted in 2018

Life is hard- then we drop a stitch

Sometimes it seems life is nothing but hard.

We battle our way,

Not always bravely~ through the days,

No end to issues that fray our mind.

Crippled, diminished, overwhelmingly maligned.

Like knitting, unraveling as we’ve dropped a stitch,

So easy to toss, refusing to admit~ defeat.

Sagely we just keep following the pattern,

Hoping it looks like the gift to others we envisioned

when we picked it.

Vcl©️

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Posted in 2018

Released ~ free verse it is.

Released  

I languished in a sea of untamed thoughts

I am powerless to reign

the tempest within

Some say that there are no new stars

But I have never been this way before

Thus my story keens

As an infant born in the bowels of a boat

I seek stormy release

Fearful of the deep

As the word winds sweep

My words land disheveled

In a heap, released safely to shore

Vulnerable but with relief.

 

Picture credit: Horacio Cardozo