Posted in 2018

Taste the Mystery

We really are very lucky. You know…US… the gardening people. We have had our annual joy…..and a busy time recently gathering in all the fruits and vegetables of our labors. Abruptly…just as every year feels that way,  cooler weather has descended…I find myself contemplating socks….saints preserve us!

This is the time of year when we can’t go around with a new plant (family member) as in warmer climes, chanting under our breath “Where are we going to put you?” Here in northern Alberta….the land of the blue line on seed packets I call it, we are now asking ourselves “How are we going to protect you?”

My husband states he saw frost on my car in the early morning…which I’ll have to take his word for as early is a dirty word in my vocabulary. 🤩 Hearing that though, I am instantly thrown into a protective stance. Do I grab the peppers and tomatoes (still quite green due to poor sunlight caused largely by the forest fires that hid the sun and the rest of the skyline most of the summer) ? Or do I leave them be, alert for just a little precious Indian Summer?

That’s the dichotomy of gardening friends.  The cycle of birth and death. It gets played out on the gardening stage every year. It’s been a great run, but now we look for ways to cheat the calendar.  It could mean the difference between a bountiful harvest or no harvest at all.

As for me, I went down to my garden today. I picked some tomatoes, cukes and onions. I grabbed a couple of peppers and a lone zucchini too and made a delicious salad for our supper.

I pronounced it good.

I picked more sage to dry, anticipating Thanksgiving in the pungent autumnal odor lingering on my fingers. I contemplated covering the Tom Thumbs. Maybe tomorrow.

Mother Nature winks at us all. I Winked back!😍😉

Photo vcl©️

Posted in 2018

You did not die ❤️

Upon reflection

Sometimes things

Get broken

And you just can’t

Fix it

You just can’t

Kiss it

Make it better

It just won’t move

Or improve.

It gets caught

In a groove

And you’ve wiggled

And waggled

Without success

But stepping back

You’ve learned to live

Without something

Important

And You did not die.

vcl©️ Photo & poem

Posted in 2018

Criss-crossing threads ➰

While skimming through some YouTube videos recently I viewed an excerpt from the 1968 motion picture Funny Girl. One of the things that most stood out for me in this movie was the song Barbara Streisand introduced by the name of “People,” often known by the line in the chorus “People, people who need people are the luckiest people in the world”. I still remember that song for many reasons. One of these is the deep-rooted notion that we are never alone in this world, furthermore that we depend on others for more that just mere survival.

People do need people.  Together we comprise the real “fabric of our lives.” It is up to us to work with one another in creating unity. By understanding what we share in common, and better defining the boundaries of what makes us different, we can embrace our connectedness and our diversity in the long run. And this affects our own reality, both as individuals, as well as at large. The sooner we come to this realization, the quicker we are able to fall in sync with our life’s purpose and find fulfillment. If we are to survive the challenges of our changing world, we must trust ourselves, open our hearts and bond with others through the real experiences that enrich our spirits. Only then will we rise to the call of our true nature, As the song says  “you were half, now you’re whole.” 💝

Threads

Today I overheard the term “fabric of life”

Not as a complete sentence, certainly not sure of the context

I think of criss-crossing threads, a cloth of existence

That we can wrap around our selves. An assurance of realness

           Soul dressing    ©️Vcl

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

 

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? 🙄

 

 

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

BDF396E4-AC86-475A-9591-AD7E4DE7F45C

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©️