Many thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers space to bud and bloom!
The earth laughs in flowers. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Today’s poem is a triolet, inspired by Barb Edler’s post yesterday. Before Barb’s mother died, she planted daffodils, and these are Barb’s favorite flowers. I, too, lost my mother (December 2015) and miss her very much – my mother’ s favorites were wild petunias and yellow roses. When I need to count blessings and decompress, I take my keys off the hook by the door and start up my little blue Caribbean RAV4 and go riding the country roads. I look for the blooms, the rolling hills, the hawks on wires, the cows in the meadows. It puts the world back in perspective for me – – I am here but for a blink of an eye, and whatever is worrying me, too, shall pass.
Today, let’s remember our mothers who have gone before us but who still wave to us in flowers! We still see you, Moms! #flowerhugs
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers inspiration and space to share
Today’s poem is a random line poem, constructed from a line heard or read randomly. My husband is an NCIS fan, and he’s in season 20. I’m usually reading or writing when he’s watching his show. I heard Kasey say she was going to drink a ginger ale (a drink I don’t think she likes). I jotted it down and wrote this random line poem.
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers an encouraging and safe space.
I’m borrowing a line or two from Lucille Clifton today, from her book Quilting: Poems 1987-1990, to write a borrowed line poem. This line in italics is from her poem “eyes”: I could say so much to you if you could understand me
Logo of an actual writing game changer – squeeze it and watch the magic happen as habits take root!
Cheers for the journey through the Slice of Life Challenge throughout March! Here’s the link if you’d like to read the daily blog posts of writers in this challenge.
I celebrate 3 years of daily blogging today all because the Slice of Life Challenge pushed me along in my thinking that if I could write for a week, I could write for two weeks. If I could write for a month, I could write for two months (I joined #VerseLove on the heels of SOLC). If I could write for two months, I could write every day of my life, as I now do with The Stafford Challenge. And so it began….and continues. Thank you to the Two Writing Teachers for the inspiration to make writing a part of my life every single day and for giving writers voice and space. If I can do this, we can all do this. Writers are born from mindset.
This year’s National Poetry Month (April) poster will feature a line from Lucille Clifton’s poem Blessing the Boats (at St. Mary’s) from her book Quilting: Poems 1987-1990. Today, I’m writing a Golden Shovel poem using the striking line: and may you in your innocence sail through this to that. The striking line appears vertically as ending words on each line.
if only these walls hadn't crumbled and we hadn't pretended, we may have made her proud ~ but you in your striped robe of pious innocence paint fake facades, sail in synthetic superlatives through frilly frippery, oblivious to this truth: she would not have wanted you to carry on like that
My oldest grandson turns 14 today. Last year, we went on a fishing trip together. This year, he went skiing with his youth group in West Virginia. Time is flying, and we love the time we share with him. Here he is, loving life.
Today’s poem is a Haiku, inspired by the footage on my Netvue bird camera. We always seems to find such joy in watching birds, but the truth is that they argue and antagonize each other as much as people. Perhaps we laugh because they help us see the humor in human nature and how ridiculous we look.
The Quarreling Songbirds
quarreling sparrows bicker, spar over birdseed like squabbling siblings
Chipping Sparrows spar for the Johnson Funny Farm Birdcam
I was so thrilled when my daughter in law texted me earlier this week to let me know that three of my grandchildren had a tea party with my childhood tea set I passed on to them. These pictures just melt my heart, seeing their little hands hold the cups I once held. What a joy and blessing! I’m also grateful for their mother, who creates special moments for them and shares them with me. She is an absolute treasure, and we love her so much!
It’s my daughter’s 37th birthday, and I wrote an acrostic poem for her today. She’s celebrating on a trip to Arizona with her boyfriend, and they’re enjoying their time together, exploring the sights!
My daughter’s birthday
Arizona gift trip
Loving the cactus desert weather
Living the good side of life
Out for adventure
Rock-hounding enthusiast
Youthfully energetic
*She sent me this picture of a random cactus with this explanation: “We stopped for a wee and a fill up. This cactus was at the gas station. We’re 20 minutes from Tucson.”Classic Mallory text. I’m so happy that she is celebrating her birthday today!
From the Yule Log recipe notes: A French Christmas tradition that dates back to the 19th century, the cake represents the yule log that families would burn starting on Christmas Eve, symbolizing the new year to come and good luck ahead.
After baking the Yule Log cake and spreading and rolling it with heavy whipped cream in an inside whirl, my daughter went to work icing the cake to look like a tree log.
When her masterpiece was complete, she thanked me. ”Without you, I probably would have given up.”
Her comments stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t offered much of anything other than simply being there. I’d been the one to make the mistake of flipping the frosting onto the floor. Fortunately, it had landed like Mount Crumpit, allowing me to scoop off the top of the mountain and then clean up what was touching the floor, saving what was usable for the bark frosting and discarding the rest – – while she stood there laughing (shhhh…..don’t tell anybody this part).
But it sure got me thinking about the Yule Logs of our lives and the teamwork we need to conquer their challenges to reach their summits. I thought of the lessons I’d learned.
Even if the Yule Log had been a complete disaster, the experience making it was the blessing. Togetherness in the kitchen is sacred, and things happen there that can’t happen anywhere else. There is conversation, laughter, mistake making, and forgiveness.
The one who reads the whole recipe and sees how overwhelming it will be may be less equipped than the one who has never read it and sees the whole journey as merely a series of small steps. Some of us work on long range plans, some on short range plans.
Sometimes supporting someone is just a matter of presence and encouragement – nothing more.
Just because she’d never made a Yule Log didn’t mean she couldn’t turn out a masterpiece. I’m pretty sure Michelangelo had never painted a Sistine Chapel ceiling before, either. He nailed it on the first attempt, and so did she. Not only was this Yule Log gorgeous, it was also delicious.
I need to stop counting the obstacles and focus on the possibilities. Dollar General sells $15 mixers on Christmas Eve, and they do the same work as the top of the line Kitchen Aid mixers. The gas oven is the same 350 degrees that an electric oven is. There are bowls that will appear out of nowhere when you need another one – some plastic, some metal, some glass. You get a second wind somewhere at the beginning of a long task, and it will see you through.
Without each other, we can accomplish much more than we can accomplish alone.
There is both starting power and staying power in support and encouragement from others to make it to the finish line.
When I wonder why I’m standing in a kitchen on Christmas Eve never having guessed I’d be making a Yule Log, that’s the time to listen for the lessons that life is sending my way through the blessings of my children. It’s in the unfamiliar, uncertain places where we draw on faith and learn our greatest lessons.
I need to do a better job of expressing to each of my children how very proud I am of each of them and how much I love them. They do things that terrify me and things that amaze me.
It isn’t luck or magic that is needed for any of this. It’s prayer and divine intervention, and they are not the same things.
In the years ahead, my hope is that the moments of making this Yule Log burn warmly, living on as embers that remind us that the living of life is in the journey, and it isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes each other, and it takes willingness and courage. It takes a lot of work, and there will be mishaps. It takes forgiveness and laughter. But most importantly, it takes faith, hope, and love.
8 O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.
Common Threads 