Tag: Literature

Posted in 2018

Tea ~ Something to mull over.

Posted on by Nfocus4you

For me, turning on the kettle has a relaxing quality about it. The sound of the water boiling. The spoon resting in the china cup. The clanking of the spoon as it stirs the sugar.

Growing up, when my family received important news, good or bad, we would boil water and make tea.This ritual allowed us a moment I think to take in the enormity of what had happened.

It’s a way to reset ourselves. To symbolically “count to ten” before we react to the world around us.

Refueling our mind is an imperative step that we owe ourselves as we move through life. It’s the path to clarity and perspective. Acceptance and peace.

It’s the only way to live our best life and offer our gift to the world. As Wynonna Judd once said, “You have to fill your cup. You then give away the overflowing, but you keep a cupful for yourself.” That’s how this day has been.

I’m in a tanka*-ish mood this evening 🤗

Here is a pic of my tea in its obligatory china cup.

cold spring frost lies thick –

I wait for the tea kettle

sun parts cloud-curtains

water boils to waken leaves

mist and steam rise together

*tanka – elder cousin of the haiku – a Japanese syllabic poetry form, the lines of which are 5-7-5-7-7

Ciao ~Val 2018

Posted in 2018

Fog ~ My musings today.

Posted on by Nfocus4you

Happy July musings friends 😍 June is gone…fluttering away like an un-cocooned (my word?) butterfly.  🦋 These first few days have been chilly, and cool…with a hint of fog.
Where I come from fog has a sound. Distinctly. It rolls in from a distance, rustling the leaves, sneaking through the woods, settling around our shoulders. It is the kind of sound that spawns scary horror stories and things that go thump in the night.

You hear it…you know it is coming…but not.. 😮quite.. yet….
This phot by Darlene Rafuse from my roots in The Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia (North Mountain ) sparked that memory today. I’ve told stories about it to my husband and children who have not experienced the eerie phenomenon (stubble jumpers, prairie people every one). It usually occurs in the late afternoon along the coast, causing us children to stop whatever we were doing and run for the shelter of the cottage or home. It is like the whistle that called us to supper in the winter. It signaled night.
Life is like that….things change…
Fog comes and obscures our vision.
But in the morning the sun always rises.
The bad news : Nothing is permanent.
The good news: Nothing is permanent.♥️
Go well today. 🦋
Caio~Val

Posted in 2018

🍓 Strawberries ~ My contemplation today

Posted on by Nfocus4you

When I was young there were strawberries. Rows upon rows.

Strawberries were a lucrative business in the Valley. Each spring, succulent, ruby red offerings matured. Nestled in their green leafy blankets they waited to be snatched from their protective straw beds to be sliced, mashed, crushed or dipped by eager consumers.

An early alarm had jolted me from my warm bed. Exiting the sleeping house I scooted down a well worn path to the patch. As usual, in a cool, damp foggy dawn my eyes strained to see familiar landmarks. The dilapidated hen house on the left, the outhouse, traded for a new indoor model, now a lonely sentry to the right. As if from nowhere, Skip, my neighbors’ dog, materialized from the mists.

Her familiar “yip” her only greeting, she joined my morning mission. We reached the edge. Skip slouched on her haunches, looked around, yawning as if to say” You go girl…too early for me!” Reaching into my pocket I found the sandwich I had made (I was not into breakfast), offering the crusts in the usual morning ritual. I surveyed the rows. The sun was beginning to peek through the mists.

Grasping the first of many quart baskets I scrunched down in the straw, examining the condition of the berries. Mother earth smell tickled my nose. Would I find feast or famine? Rooting among the leaves I imagined them all snuggled together in their berry bed muttering and complaining, trying to find a more comfortable position as the light shone in their eyes. “Wake up sleepy heads!”I muttered. How I wished I could trade places.

Though the fading gloom I could hear voices…words undistinguishable yet, like the babbling brook flowing nearby. I grab another basket. My nimble berry- stained fingers gathered..intent on their harvest. The older girls that work at the Canning factory would arrive soon…everybody gossiped about how fast they could work a patch. They only picked berries till the Cannery opens. “That was where the real money was.” they said. Cannery girls live in the Valley forever. I didn’t aspire to be a cannery girl…my fingers picked up speed.

Caio ~ Val

Posted in 2018

Bigger Dreams

Posted on by Nfocus4you 
You’ve got to dream bigger dreams
when the old dreams don’t fit
lest the world grow dark and silent
No oceans roar, no birds soar
No singing in the street
No sounds of running feet
Just defeat.

For dreams are wishes that are unafraid 
They add brightness and colour 
New life to the day
Clouds disperse, I summon inner praise, 
Dispersing the silence I stir myself
Singing helps.
Posted in Uncategorized

St Patrick’s Day 2013~ The Limerick

Posted on by Nfocus4you

leprechaun playing a violinToday was St Patrick’s Day, so we celebrated the wee bit O’ the Irish on my side of the family. A Tip O’ the hat to the Garvin kin!

Garvin  Name Meaning~ Irish: reduced Anglicized form of Gaelic Ó Gairbhín‘descendant of Gairbhín’, a personal name derived from a diminutive of garbh ‘rough’, ‘cruel fate’.

Lunch was a delight..little potatoes smothered in Salsa verde, green salads and succulent slabs of corned beef and cabbage rolls. When we thought we could eat no more,  out came the fresh applesauce cake with green whipping cream and lucky coins….mmmmmm. My guess is that if St. Paddy ate like this he was probably quite rotund lol.

We celebrated with a poem called a Limerick, also an Irish tradition.

Limericks are one of the most fun and well-known poetic forms. No one knows for sure where the name “limerick” comes from, but most people assume it is related to the county of Limerick, in Ireland. They are short, rhyming, funny, and have a bouncy rhythm that makes them easy to memorize.  My Grandson Ethan Hallex wrote this Limerick. Hat’s off to him too!

A Man Named Delete.

There once was a man named Delete
His name he would have to repeat
He liked to play Lego
With his pal Eggo
Which was his favorite to eat.

I wonder if Eggo was green? Hope your day was a fun as ours 🙂

Couldn’t resist one last limerick…….;)

There was a young fellow named Hall
Who fell in a spring in the Fall.
T’would have seen a sad thing,
had he died in the Spring,
But he didn’t—he died in the fall.

~anonymus

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Posted in 2012

The focus on new….

Posted on by Nfocus4you

Most people are excited when given the opportunity to start something new. Getting a new car, or a new apartment, or a new kid sister…excitement abounds! But with the enthusiasm there is also and underlying feeling of trepidation…fear? of new situations. Although one may not say it out loud, fear can threaten to destroy the joy of the new….and the focus changes…so as I embark on a new adventure  (Blogging to be exact) I hope to focus4you on the *new* that each post brings. Ciao