Tuesday, March 24, 2015

from a little birdie
























We're just a few days into spring and though windows are open to warmer air and wasps are busy in the shrubs below, it feels we've not yet crossed over.  Fine by me.  I like a cool spring, one that takes us into its season as slowly as I leave my morning bed.

One of birth is how Poet Sparrow thinks of spring, followed by one of florescence, one of harvest, and then one of contemplation

I recently put the question to friends; which is your favorite? 

Aren't we prone to pick our favorite, define it as the best and defend our choice?  White wine over red, peonies over roses, jazz over country . . .  We have our favorite seasons and can list them in order of preference.  

Mine have changed across the years, much like my grandmother said my taste buds would, every seven years as that wives' tale goes. 
I like autumn the most.  I get a childish thrill choosing pumpkins, and excited when bursts of wind blow leaves across my path.  Spring comes next with planting pots of this and bigger pots of that, and herbs thriving on the patio just steps from the kitchen.  Summer and winter tie for each is to me, extreme.  Scorching hot or freezing cold.


The power of a poet's words, not the passing of years, may have forever changed how I think of the seasons.  Consider again, those words Sparrow presented; birth, florescence, harvest, and contemplation, singly rich with vast meanings.  

Birth can represent Christmas Day as easily as Easter represents rebirth.  Harvest, foremost in our mind gives us visions of fall and Thanksgiving yet early peas, asparagus, and radishes are little jewels of spring harvests.  Some summers still find me and Spoke stringing strands of chili pepper lights in the kitchen but florescence also brings to my mind the glow cast by a small spotlight on the framed Madonna which we light up throughout the year.  Contemplation, time we devote to private thoughts or musings, may be as focused when we're forced indoors by summer's afternoon heat, as by winter evenings.

Sparrow has given us such a gift with just four little words.  Never will I think of the seasons in the way I always have; separate, ranked, and judged.  They are now intertwined, embraced, and celebrated.

Thank you, Poet Sparrow.




Tuesday, February 24, 2015

cells


Would those who consider the growth of human life not to be viable for several months, think of cancer cells, were they present within themselves, in the same way; not viable for quite a while?


Sunday, January 25, 2015

the carousel















My retired life has become too busy.  They say this happens.   

It seems not so long ago that Spoke and I spent the days following Christmas greeting the New Year in Florence.  Only a couple of years were we gifted with sunny, fifty degrees days for most often Firenze was damp or downright cold, the city's centuries old gray stone walls enveloping us in the chill on every walk.  

One Natale we found ourselves by this piazza, the warm glow of the merry-go-round lights spotted from a distance, beckoned us to take a closer look.

I was a stranger looking in, a tourist thrilled at the sight but with no thoughts of jumping on a painted horse and taking a ride.

Our traveling days came to an end and our retirement these many years later is very much what we planned; days and evenings of domestic leisure filled with food, wine, family and friends, books, film, music, quiet, art, nature, beauty.  Life was paced and predictable until I did that very thing; I jumped upon a local carousel.

They say make a plan and you'll hear God laugh. . .  

I chose this merry-go-round for it is majestic.  The fillies are beautiful, the music is grand, and riding with others is fun, often daring.  Now the days fly by and I'm busier than ever, be it body or mind or both.  I am productive and creative on this ride, happy to canter while those around me seem to have mounted flying horses.                          

With admiration, I watch them reach for the brass ring.  I do not desire another ring.

Being on this merry-go-round looking out, is magical I admit, but my biggest thrill comes when the spinning halts, the lights go out, the music ends and Spoke helps me step down.  

My feet firmly planted on solid ground again, seeing the carousel from a distance, is when I hear the laughter.  Big belly laughs, loud and clear.       




Thursday, January 1, 2015

the coming year


"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."










(Zora Neale Hurston)
 

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

allee on a winter's night


12 Days


On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree.














































On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.































On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.
















On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.







































On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.
















On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.































On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.





























On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.




























On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.














  





































On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.








































On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.








































On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.






On the sixteenth day of December, two of my true loves gave to me, twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.

Thank you Dallas Arboretum and Dallas Opera for the spectacular show.  Merry Christmas!








 12 Days of Christmas at the Dallas Arboretum
through January 4, 2015. Details and tickets
at dallasarboretum.org

Sunday, November 30, 2014

pacing


It has been a glorious fall and my unwillingness to leave it is mated to the winter solstice, still weeks away. 

Mirroring the emotions in many of us this holiday time of year, our weather has been all over the place; warm and sunny days give way to sudden drops of thirty degrees and calm precedes fierce winds.  I am happy.  I am sad.  I want to slow down.  I feel rushed.  

I'm still enjoying the crunch of fallen leaves while my neighbors rake piles or blow them away to make room for Christmas lights.  The inflated yard Santa two houses down, put up before Thanksgiving Day, has collapsed twice already and will many more times before he's taken down the 26th of December.  No savoring Thanksgiving, on to Christmas!  Soon it will be no lingering Christmas joy, on to New Year's!

Talk about deflated. . .

 


















Beautiful pumpkins fill our rooms, filling me with awe of Mother Nature's mysterious gifts, unwrapped I'll add.  I want to enjoy this autumn mood for a while longer.

The first day of Christmas is December 25th so we've got time. . . 
We've got time for all of it.  As it comes.