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©️

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.   🎶

 

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.

 

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

Posted in 2018

Saudade~there, I longed to say it. ❤️

Saudade, the melancholia remains

after someone is gone.

Causing a sonorous emptiness,

melding emotions that overflow,

Ever mindful of your voice,

your smile,

Your warm embrace.

I long for what cannot be.

Yet am content in what was.

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 ❤️

Posted in 2018

Burnt toast dreams~ 🍞

Sometimes life is filled

With the acrid smell of burnt toast dreams

Unpalatable to most

Yet occasionally there is one

Who will take a knife

Scraping away the blackened ugliness

Salvaging that bit of goodness that

Others miss.

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©️

Posted in 2014

Blueberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

mmmmm

Annie's avatarannie's cooking lab

Blueberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake ~ Annie's Cooking Lab

I spent last weekend enjoying some time on the west coast with my family. Whenever we get together there is sure to be an abundance of delicious food, and last weekend was no exception. There are a number of talented cooks in the family so a few weeks before our family gatherings we usually divvy up meals and cooking responsibilities and I’m always eager to help, especially when it comes to desserts and treats.

With egg stratas, mimosas, and fresh fruit already on the breakfast menu, I volunteered to take charge of the sweet component and made this Blueberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake. The recipe can be mixed up quickly with just a spoon and whisk which was definitely a bonus for me since I was able to start working on it while part of the family was still sleeping. The sour cream keeps the cake moist and tender and…

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