Yesterday, and Today.

Thank You Neighborhood

Walking through the neighborhood, see the ground upon I stood.... warm.

Drifting through the open air, a garden here a garden there... fragrant.

Temperature is most delicious, cool, clean and quite nutricious... breath. 

Stepping through the sunlight falling, cascades on the pavement calling... wet.

Shadows dancing through the sun, trees that sway and rooted ton... weight.

Glancing all around my body, morning walks are sure a hobby... fresh.

Memories-- things oft and late, flitting through mine peaceful state... soft.

Time is tender in this place, far away from running race... joy.

Feet tread lightly on this walk, see a person stop to talk... meet.

In this purpose hallowed be, blessing rock and plant and breeze... honest.

Opening my door I find, I leave mind distraught behind... free.

Have a care and blessed be, namaste and love to thee... heart.

Religion's not of what I speak, I say nature, take a peek... open.

Breathe in light and sun and air, take your time and have a care... be.

Tend your life as garden weed, pull the strife and feed the seed... trust.

 What you seek you'll surely find, leave the pain and fear behind... see.

On this walk I do declare, fancy is this morning air... here.

Beat my heart and flow my blood, feel the life that through me thuds... strength.

Close my eyes and feel my skin, tickled by the lightened wind... true.

My world is what I make it, aye, life is choosing living by... thought.

Returning home I feel sensated, relaxed, renewed and hurt abated... I shall walk again.

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Warm fragrant breath-- wet weight.

 Fresh soft joy? Meet honest free heart! 

Open be. 

Trust. 

See here: strength-- true thought. 

I shall walk again.

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Some Weekends are More Difficult than Others.

Some Weekends...

Alarm doesn't sing, it shouts. 

The time isn't in, it's out.

The plan isn't good, it's poor.

Our feet can't get out the door.

Forgotten is traveling alone.

Mindless a body-like drone.

Too many things left behind.

Strange that we look, but can't find.

Run to the car, scramble in.

The gas light's on E again.

The doctor is waiting for us.

We're trapped behind a great big bus.

No coffee has J had this morn.

I have; he's grumpy with scorn.

We're en route to knife and pain.

Wisdom Teeth removed from main. 

First the nitrous, then the drip.

Into the IV it slips.

J goes out, he seems at peace.

I am ushered to my feet.

Reading in the waiting room.

I feel worried, gloom and doom.

He'll be fine-- I tell myself.

If he's not they'll call for help.

Soon they bring me back to him.

Brightly lit; the room's not dim.

J is groggy, cannot see.

Reaches for my hand, "It's me."

Doc says everything went well.

J can leave and soon will swell.

Lots of rest but please eat food.

Give him drugs to improve his mood.

In a week we shall return.

Follow up exam to learn.

Now must get J to the car.

Weaving, bobbing, it's not far.

Driving home he's feeling sick.

Stomach churning, pain that pricks.

Soon we're home and he's in bed.

Resting softly, propped up head.

Ice packs, pain pills, mushed up food.

Drugs that make him float un-glued.

Swelling cheeks and headache hot.

Rub his feet and soothe his lot.

Cranky, cooped-up, tired and sore.

Advil helps, but not full-score.

Still no sleeping, sweating sick.

Dial up the doctor, quick!

Says it's normal, but if not.

He'll see us; tomorrow sought.

This is how our weekend went:

Difficult, but finally spent.

Ah, Memories... Do You Remember, Recall, Review?

I Remember.

I remember when the days were full of sunshine, green grass and tree hugs.

When the light smelled of rain; the sun of dust on the flagstones.

When I was little and the trees, cars and buildings were... not.

I remember my sneakers slapping on the hot, smooth concrete, worn down by tire treads and bicycles.

The haze of heat, wafting and hovering just above the ground and along the skyline. 

Tasting lemonade, sweet tea, and the dark delicious shiver of AC as you step indoors... from out.

I remember soft, wet earth, the smell of dirt off the garden hose, the wet grass sparkling in the sun.

Round fresh tomatoes, warm from the afternoon, glowing in the evening on their spicy vines.

The sigh and whisper of the cool breeze through the trees, outstretched and reaching against the sky.

I remember being called in for lunch, for supper, and to get ready to go somewhere... respectable.

The skinned knees of summer, spring and fall; concrete changes temperature but never texture.

Popping over to neighbor's houses, to talk and learn and explore their lives too.

I remember the soft, firm hands of my mother; her skin like... satin.

The rough, square handsome hands of my father; dirt from the gardens beneath his nails.

The lazy creak of the porch swing as we sat and shivered from the warm rain in the heavy night.

I remember lightening, thunder and staring wonder-struck at the storm.

The buttery, toasty, sweet smell of baking pies, cookies and cakes.

The salty, rich, fragrance of soups, sauces, roasts and stew.

I remember the cool, crisp raw growing things; picked and eaten happily on the ground...by the vine.

The singing smell of pumpkin bread and melting butter; filling the house with it's spicy, deep warmth.

The fall leaves changing colors and the air itself growing crisp and peppery.

I remember warm, sweet smelling sweat glistening on... skin.

The fresh, clean smell of open water; gleaming like molten glass on the surface.

The fantastic mid-weight of a warm quilt- fresh from the dryer, wrapped around oneself.

I remember voices laughing on the wind, leaves twisting and flipping their underbellies upward.

The squelch of cold, cold mud under bare feet; thick like peanut butter left in the icebox.

The taste of candy; gooey and melted from sitting in a pocket too long.

I remember music floating through the neighborhood, oldies and contemporary, classical and jazz.

The stale smell of wood-polish, varnish and leather in the murmuring carpeted quiet of church.

The scolding for tearing my Sunday tights and muddying my dress; climbing trees... to avoid attending.

I remember singing with my family to my father playing the piano. 

My mother perched on the couch arm beside him, her body turned toward the sound.

The still of the night and of the early morning before everything ends... and begins again.

I remember soft lies, kind eyes, lullabies and awkward sighs. 

Not knowing what to say to someone new, interesting and different smelling.

Suddenly shy; sneakers make circles in the dust, or across the grass.

I remember all of my senses alive; taking in; wishing I was older and younger at the same time.

I remember the adventures I had with the people, animals, trees and world I knew.

I remember... and I hope I never forget.

When It Rains, It Pours...

FINALLY! It's thunder storming... my absolutely favorite weather.

Is it odd that rain cheers me up? Aside from the fact that our state has been on fire; I think not.

I'm always able to think more clearly when it rains.

Yesterday I made cookies with the following (all organic or all natural) ingredients: Irish butter, salt, raw sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, almond milk, coconut flour, brown rice flour, oatmeal, raw pecans, dark chocolate chips and loving, kindly intentions.

They came out very well, though I have to say I like "The Good Life," brand of vegan dark chocolate chunks the best for baking.

Tonight, my plan is  to make veggie soup with (again all organic and all natural) sweet vidalia onions (my favorite onion), salt, pepper, cabbage, cauliflower, red wine, vegetable broth and mushrooms. I will begin with coconut oil for my simmering fat, but I may add butter.

I go back and forth about butter-- but one thing's for sure, Irish butter is my FAVORITE-- to cook with, spread on biscuits, you name it.

We'll see what happens.

I've been feeling rather blue lately, and I'm not entirely sure why. Most likely, it's because I've been shirking my writing projects; thus I feel the need to mentally flagellate myself, which I know is in and of itself counterproductive.

However, I am only human.

I keep mulling and spinning all these ideas in my head. I owe you an entry on "The Type of Grandmother I Hope to Be," very soon.

I also owe you the first few pages of my second book writing project.
I'm still nit-picking through my edit phase of the previous novel (the first few pages of which I posted here).

I am currently attempting to get back to basics.  I henceforth dub myself a writer, and I will treat my projects with the respect that I owe them; that is to say that I will dutifully work on them as though I were getting paid for my services--- because, in fact, I am.

The amount of pleasure I gain every single time I work on them is HUGE.

Why then, have I not touched them in two weeks, you ask?
The answer is because I am afraid of the dual nature of both failing and succeeding.

For now, it is time to make soup, write, drink tea, and eat lots of vegetables, nuts and fruits to feed my soul and nourish my brain.

Speaking of amazing food finds, "Outside the Bread Box," is a CO brand that has made the most delicious toasting and sandwich bread I've ever had in my life -- Vegan, Gluten-Free Oatmeal Bread. It has no egg-replacer, no crappy canola oil. It is made with identifiable ingredients and olive oil.

Be still my blessed, beating, gluten-free heart --- I can have SANDWICHES and TOAST again!

Thank goodness for small favors... and awesome people.  I actually called the bakery the first day J and I tasted this bread. I rang them up and thanked them profusely. A sweet, indulgent lady with a lovely warm laugh told me to pop by the bakery the next time I was in Colorado Springs.

You can bet your BUTTONS I will.

I hope everyone has been well, and that there are still folks out there reading! :-)

Love, Hugs and RAIN to you all!
May your puddles be jump-worthy, your rain barrels be splashing full, and your summer nights full of stars that remind you of years gone by, and years to come.

<3