to sing to it sweetly

As the sap runs in the Maples these days, it runs in me as well. Spring has begun the thaw in my veins, I feel a thinner blood coursing there. The tonic I take does not derive itself from digging Sassafras or searching the ground, yet- for new green... it is the bird songs, the new tunes I'm hearing these days that really gets my blood flowing.
As I exited the truck yesterday after work, heading straight for the chicken coop to gather eggs, petting the heads of the ever playful, faithful Gideon and Gracie(faithful as in waiting for perhaps a cracked egg to be tossed their way...)I noticed the newest singer on the farm. The melody stopped me in my tracks. Did it come from the pines? Yes, it sounded like it came from over there...so, off my course I wandered-must have gotten to close, for the shrill whistles stopped for a time. I stood, still... and waited for the music, the song of Spring...I could not detect the little bird making the sound with my eyes, though thankfully, as I listened-the song began again. I found myself a happy spot there, in that moment...the experience welling up in me as a yearning, an awakening too-and a putting to bed, almost- of the harsh cold winter.
I find winter can be, at this time of year especially- like a child who is too sleepy, disgruntled, dragging it's feet before it retires...whining in winds, crying in precipitation like tears from rain storms, and even still-an ice and snow covering as it's security blanket. Perhaps that is why the little birds sing...to help put winter to bed, to sing to it sweetly- a lullaby of Spring.
Beautiful day to you, take care-

the seed order

I can finally look at myself in the mirror, look my self right square in the eye. I sent in my seed order. It's taken too long to square it away, I don't know why it took me so long...probably something to do with lawyers and insurance and work and Big Fish and too much going on...But, who doesn't have a messy life? Really? We all juggle, huh? Some, with their appointment calenders and spiffy clean homes make it look so simple, I really hate efficient people. Try on my life Miss Suzy Homemaker...they'd have to put a straight jacket on you. Yep. Off the point again, anyway! The seed order took me quite a long time to do. You see- the restaurant that I was merely "helping" out for the winter has become a project in a sense too. The cook quit about a month into my waitress gig there, so the kitchen witch in me, the owner and the owner's sister came out- and the cooking really began. (Please understand...Rene and Andrea do most of the cooking...and they're both artists, amazing women...good company!) But now, there is no waitress, or sous chef or regular cook- oh no. I, the whiz bang idiot that I think I am- I just try to do it all. Fun. Fun. But I like it. I like building the plate like a masterpiece, the intention of love like a garnishment. When those plates go out of there, they look like beautiful paintings, every patron usually immediately states, "Oh- how beautiful!" And very few of those plates come back with even a smidgen of food left on them. The point I'm trying to make, I my self am trying to see...I'm a pretty creative person, I thrive on it. I didn't know this about myself. The pressure sometimes of juggling, cooking, too much...maybe, just maybe (if we don't crack from the pressure!)propels us like cannon balls into a different atmosphere of yes, yes and more yes, and why not? So back to that seed order- in a round a bout way...that is why it took me so long to place it, too busy and I'm growing all the produce this restaurant can use. I've had to forecast how much lettuce and what kind of beets would glorify a salad in the most artistic way...crazy stuff. Is this why chefs(not that I'm a chef, far from it...)seem so irritable at times? Thankfully I have no one working "beneath" me...I'm the lowly waitress too, except on Saturdays- then Miss Lils is the cute little waif of a server...and she don't take no crap from her Mama in the kitchen. And let me explain "lowly waitress"...people often give this person in the restaurant field the most flack. The server is usually the one who pulls it all together, maintains the balance, keeps the cups full, entertains and smiles even when some old bitty sneers "Girl! My water is old, bring me a fresh glass..." Yea, sister- I got your water...catch! Of course I don't do that, only dreaming...I'm just saying, the flack the server gets is usually unwarranted, it is not her/his fault if the food is a flop- but they're the one's who get one quarter a dime and two pennies, which essentially is stating "Hmmpphh! Your worth is $.37...and a mountain of sugar packets." So- see why the seed order is so vastly important? The produce has to be just right...it has to fit, be beautiful and tasty and memorable and like a painting on a plate...oh, you see what I do? Too much. But my intention is love, truly. And a love has to be your all, your everything, has to stand up and say "here is my best intention, hope you enjoy!!!" Seeds to salads to smiles to sighs to...straight jackets! Ha, have a good one. Oh, and tip big ya cheapskates!!!! Take care-

into an eternal Spring

WITH THAT MOON LANGUAGE




Admit something:



Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me.”



Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise
someone would call the cops.



Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.



Why not become the one who lives with a
full moon in each eye that is
always saying,

with that sweet moon language,
what every other eye in
this world is
dying to
hear?
By: Sri Chinmoy

Good morning. I just had to bring that verse to your attention. How beautiful! "Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye..."
Why not?! I came across Sri Chinmoy's writings only recently, how they have moved me from February, from winter- into an eternal Spring. I stumbled upon Poet Seers and became immediately, immensely immersed. Stumble Upon is a new search engine(perhaps it's not so new...but it is new to me.) I recommend it. The websites are an alternative to the landscaped sites elsewhere...just my opinion. Folks travel around the web, and share to their liking more than quirky stuff. Satire, humor, counter culture- it's interesting to the point of all engulfing one's time. I stumbled in by looking up Dignity Village- a homeless community outside Portland, Oregon. That is another story all together- but such stories make up for the emptiness sometimes of the web. As you travel through their pages, you can thumbs up or thumbs down, sometimes navigating through sites that have not been recommended yet, you then are asked for a review. Others with interests similar to your own can then see where you've been, why you went- why on earth you'd encourage others to participate. Pretty cool for a hayseed like me, a hippy kind of tech chick. Yep. I sure say yep alot, how improper English is that?! I could never be a writer, a love child of critics...they'd pick me apart! And that's ok, I certainly do not write for anyone in particular, just grazing through my own experiences and trying to be relative to some. Ahhhh- the connections. That "sweet moon language"...again, isn't that a beautiful thought? Hopeful romantic signing off here- hope the wind blows some bliss your way today. Take care-

gas money

As gray and cold as the winter can be, still...there are those who's sunshiney good spirits lift and enliven. ( Dont' you agree?! )... Like the young 'uns that put on their show this weekend (the one where my saxaphone playing son participated in)- at "The Cell" in Mason City, Illinois. This place is a teenage wonderland. I think it's pretty cool how they allow these bands in there and offer up a place for the young folks to hang. I was the oldest one there. At first, I felt a bit out of place- I shied away into the corners. I blended. I did not allow my parental attitude to stray beyond my own nose. I'm so glad I went. The first band was from St. Louis, Cake Eater- these guys were amazing! Heck, they couldn't have been more than 19 and they played with the enthusiasm and hard earned skill of guys who'd been playing together for years. They were really good, I kept looking around to see if anyone else noticed how tremendous this group was- but all the kids were dancing! It's kind of like the Charleston- the dance they do to this kind of music. It looked like so much fun and was awesome to watch. Sometimes other kids would run in and out of the crowd, colliding with the dancers, but I learned that that is a normal thing too. That was funny to see, I told my daughter, "My God...the raging hormones there! Like big old mountain goats bashing there heads together." She laughed, and agreed. I meandered over to the t-shirt table to see their wares, a girl with multiple piercings blankly looked at me. (In truth, the first thing I noticed were the piercings and the attitude, I did not match it though...)I smiled at her and started a conversation. "Where you from?" etc.... When all was said and done, I said-"Well, it's really cold outside, and if you do not have dependable transportation and get stranded you must call me, that's too long of a drive on a cold night. Here's my number, I have a big old farm house you could flop in if you had to." She seemingly never changed the attitude, the somewhat blankness, so I said "good bye, love the graphics on the tshirts" and wandered back to my corner. My son's band "Don't Mess With Winkie" started to play. Imagine confetti in music form. Yep! Thats their excitement! Trombones and trumpets and two saxaphones, guitars and drums and these guys all dancing on stage- I was blown away. How could you blare all that out, mix it together, filter it through many voices all at once and come out with reggae/ska/blues/jazz? I don't know, I saw it and heard it with my own ears and eyes and I still can't believe the sound!!! Of course I wanted to dance! But my youngest, Lily- gave me the look, like "don't you dare get out of that chair, it won't be pretty." So, not to embarress my children- I stayed put. But believe me, the opportunity was there to share some misery of times past, to repeat their humiliating history...to get back at them! But, alas- I could not, no- the music, the elevation of all spirits in that room would have suffered, so...I sat and enjoyed the joy. OH, I almost forgot...the girl with the piercings, the one who seemed so unaffected by anything...she brought me over a tshirt. For free. Because she thought I was so kind to have invited them to the farm should there be trouble. These kids barely had gas money to get home, they could have sold more tshirts in order to make up the deficit- but they gave me one for free, wouldn't accept any money for it. Hmmmm....aren't teenagers wonderful??!!? Sometimes... they're sublime.
Do take care-

Ruth Stout is my hero

Good morning. I'm thinking this day too much of gardening. I want to put my cloches up, those are like little mini hoop houses. They're easy to install- I just take welded wire, shape it into long caves, insert wire edges into ground and cover with visqueen or whatever random plastic that may be laying around. I'm very technical. Sometimes, before I put the metal "caves" down- I put down black paper or loads of hay, to keep the weeds out and the insects guessing. Mostly I use tons of hay, the Ruth Stout method...she had hay mulch down to an art. She wasted no energy fretting about weed invasion, nope! She'd just plunk a flake of hay on top of an emerging weed and simply walk away, whistling. She is my hero. Her books, if you can find them- are full of common sense and humor. I wished I could have met her- she seems like such a lovely woman, glad to be alive while poking good clean fun at the "experts". She was a sharp old dear, and didn't take any crap from anyone- unless it might help her garden grow. Then she'd just plunk it down, and yep...cover it with hay.
Yes, this day finds me yearning to begin the farming...but, it is cold and solid and frozen outside. Snow is on the ground again. I'd sure like to at least get in a cold frame(again, my technical example:) Take 4-8 bales of straw or hay, make a rectangle with them, make sure the earth within their frame is clean of debris and weeds. Now, go out to the corn crib- find an old storm window, wash it so the glass is clear, not so anciently dusty opaque...lay it atop those straw bales. Wait. In a few days, the sun will have efficiently heated the earth there, now- scatter some seeds like lettuce, arugula(my very favorite!), radish, kohlarabi, etc. Moisten the ground. Place window back over the bales. Come back tomorrow. Where there is no condensation, there is an air leak...pull out a handful of straw and stuff it right around the air leak. Do this for several days. After several days, condensation should take care of your watering needs. If it should snow, leave it atop there- that is a wonderful heat insulator. In 3 weeks +, eat some baby arugula or lettuce- enjoy the winter growth with a homemade vinagrette- remark to the children, "I grew this!" Watch their faces say-"So what!!" Shrug it off and enjoy the peppery arugala, be glad. (Though, vow to make the children sorry some day for not appreciating winter growings. Vow to take their children aside in confidence and share all the horrible growing up stories, shock their children, validate the feelings that their parents are crazy...make them see, that yes! Parents are a mess... rebel! You must rebel! (Grandma is sweet and always right...) and then send them home to their unsuspecting parents. That's my plan, my evil get back at them some day plan...)

 How do I know all of this? I don't. I just try it, see how cheaply, frugally, simply I can get by. Let the sun and the earth and all the elements do most of the work for me. The straw bales just end up as compost later, so it never matters if they get wet and boggy...just throw them on the heap or simply work them into the ground where they're sitting. I'm quite the lazy gardener. I'd rather get it planted and watch. Sit. Be amongst it. Take it all in, nibble or graze while I'm out there. AAhhhh, dreaming my farmer's dreams in February...seed catalogs will have to suffice for now, kind of like the pin up porno stuff of gardening. Stay warm. Take care-

weather wise

The wind sure is whipping outside. The moon is full too. A few stars are hanging out just in case someone needs to plant a wish on them, other than that- the brightest ones are hiding beyond the darkness somewhere. The tallest of trees in my yard have hunkered down hard this winter, many of their branches have been ripped away. My exercise regimen this winter consisted mainly of picking up branches and repairing accidents I made with the tractor. The bog out the back door is waiting for it's next victim...even the dogs avoid this mud as best they can. Ahhhh...February- it can make or break a winter, it seems as though March is always hyped about so much of being a lion or a lamb. February is it's insane sister that no one talks about, the only thing ever mentioned is Valentine's day and the fact that the month is shortened by a few days. Having a month dedicated to love, fewer days and groundhogs too, ok- throw the president's birthdays in there...alright, but still weather wise- February is so misunderstood that we do not speak of it as much as we do the phenomenol March. We don't know what to make of her whirling winds, her outbursts of rain and her sometimes sunny days...February is like a hormonal woman, give her chocolate mid month...try to appease her. Oh well, I tried my best to shine a bit here today...
just in case the sun doesn't, remember- we're all in this together. And with that knowledge, be kind to everyone you meet today- February is such a struggle, for some, it's a wrestling match. We all need chocolate. March madness? Please. February is the queen of unpredictability. Shine on, shine on. Take care out there-

little bird, I think...

My youngest son, my big, big boy...is 18 today. Mathew is a rare child. Loving and kind, sweet and tender all wrapped up in a thick covering of DO NOT TOUCH. Not so much when he was younger...though still, he was much more like a cat than a good old dog who lives to please. I would say, of all my children, Mathew required the greatest affirmations of love...he still does. And it is a difficult paradox when the child would rather slide down a razor blade than have a hug, when truly that is what he really wants. His sisters would tell you that he can drive a person up a wall...but- if one needs a shoulder, a strength...Mathew is the one who brings it, who innately knows our hearts and soothes them like no other. Who in one breath screams, "You're all crazy!!!", and then on the next, "I love you guys." We know Mathew, we know.
He wanted a saxaphone for Christmas, honestly- I thought it would be like the trumpet, the guitar, the skate ramp, the etc....I figured he would lay it aside, too soon, too much before he mastered it. Nope. He loves this thing. He sings too, beautifully, sandpaper silk kind of voice. I'm going to listen to him Friday night. He definately walks to the beat of his own drummer...for that, for his individualistic attitude, I am most proud. All my children have displayed this slightly off kilter trait, but Math...he excels. Which makes life all the harder...when you don't fit in so much...but Mathew, he blends, he swirls, the colors he adds, the sounds he makes- not your typical canary. He's the kind of little bird, I think...when he gets all his feathers- that will soar in such a way that makes others happy for their own uniqueness, their own shine and light.
He has struggled all his life, this one. When he was 11, he became very ill. In and out of hospitals in St. Louis and Cleveland and Springfield, too. Little was understood about his illness, he was scared, we were scared, took a long time to get him well. His faith was shakey, he still had to go to school on top of feeling pretty awful most of the time. He had to give up sports. Children were cruel. This is a small town, small minds...he earned a moniker of "bug boy", because he was always ill and a diagnosis evaded us. He did not tell us that the children avoided him, couldn't understand him so they mocked him. Then his beautiful big hero of a brother went off to war. I know Mathew prayed in such a way to trade his own life for his brothers...Beau was so healthy and strong, Mathew was not at the time. He thought it a fair trade off if God took him and kept his brother safe. Yep, that truly is how Mathew operates, loyal and loving and self sacrificing for his family. (And I do not mean to leave this on such a sad note, it will turn out fine)...then in July of 2003, Mathew lost his best friend to a heart condition-Ryan, who understood Mathew. Loved Mathew. Buddies that could look out and in for each other and just plain understood, accepted and loved anyway. And five days later, Mathew lost his hero big brother, his Beau, our Beau...and the anger and the hopelessness on top of it all have not left him, yet. Though...I can see the saxaphone and the singing drawing out trust, and hope again. I see the smiles there a bit brighter. It makes me so very happy, in and out...to notice these things of my boy, my big big boy, my almost a man and wouldn't your brother be so very proud. Yes he would son, yes he would. Happy, happy day. Take care-

Glove Compartment Blues

"I was lost, double crossed...I didn't have no where to run, then I stood and looked, and my eyes got hooked, on that beautiful morning sun...And it seems like...yea, it feels like....yea it seems like....oh, it does feel like....A brand new day...Yea, yea, yea...a brand new day..." Van the Man Morrison

Have you ever heard that song? It's a really good one. Even though I ranted a bit last week (Ha! I was spittin' razor blades...) I will survive. I guess I've had a bit of those Glove Compartment Blues. What's that you ask?!?!? Picture my old Ford, (everything is old about her, original)-with her simple function, even her glove compartment operates on a buttoned single flange catch. I try to shove the truck registration, insurance info, screwdrivers, extra work gloves, what ever appears worthy enough to be kept instead of thrown away. Sometimes, when I get to driving down old back roads, rougher roads than most...that darn glove compartment comes flying open and all that other stuff spills out. So- not only do I have to try to keep the old girl between the ruts and miss the bumps, I am also trying to shove all those other things back into the glove compartment...trying to shut it back up in there so I can keep focused on the road ahead. Glove compartment blues. Life. Just when the pavement is nice, the sights are pleasant, the sun is shining...the road shifts to the left and bam! Huge cavernous pothole...the steering wheel seemingly gets jerked out of my hands, and wham!! Another pothole, the glove compartment comes flying open...stuff everywhere...the road just keeps getting bumpier...That's what grief is like, I can find no better description. In relationships, failures, death, unanswered prayers, unkindnesses, unfairnesses...the Glove Compartment Blues can just plum wear you out on top of everything else. I guess what I've been trying to do as of late, instead of shoving all that crap back in the glove compartment...I was trying to sift through it...while driving down a really rough road. Yep. Lost sight of where I was going. All I could see was the "stuff" everywhere, wanted for once to get rid of it. But I can't just throw it out the window, that would be littering- someone else would then have to deal with it. Nope. So I just shoved it all back in there for a time, and little by little- one piece at a time...I'll look at it and determine if it's worthy to keep, if it's essential to the journey. If not...it will make good kindling for a fire built with faith, failure, doubts and big ol' logs of hope. Be well. Take care-

surrender, swim....part II

I don't know if I should dare write today, this is suppose to be therapy- I don't know if my ranting will help or hurt anyone. I suppose I don't have much control over the outcome- how this writing is taken is entirely up to the reader.
I recieved a letter from the attorneys yesterday. A letter that made me scream. And cry. And cry some more. You see, I have been taken to the cleaners. (And that is what it is, acknowledgemnt. So- all I wanted, at the very least- was to say "yes, ok- I've been screwed, now look me in the eye and take all this from me"-but I don't even get that opportunity...and that plum pisses me off to no end. That's where the tears come from...) I, being the stupid idiotic fool that I am, tried to be fair. Kind. Equitable. And I have tried this before in my life, and the results are always the same. Always. So, yes- I am a bit torn up. But...when I ask myself, "what would you have done differently?" I say, "Maybe not have trusted so much." But at the time, I would have trusted a rock to get me through... "Maybe not have given so much of myself." Yes...I should have kept better score, held back, a stagnant kind of love. Right. Trying to be authentic here, isn't that what the bottom line truly is? I mean, when it all passes away (and away it all passes...)the essential is left there, laying in the dirt maybe...but there it lays, truth. The truth is the stuff that does set us free, but first it whips us until we bleed, and then peels us, and finally, if we're not raw enough... burns away everything else. Yep, been wrestling in the dirt...again. And still, please know...I have been decent, loving and decent, even though it was not warranted...and a simple fool like me still tries to hold on to the belief that certain quotas for anguish and sorrow had been filled...that the universe should just knock this shit off for awhile and be a tiny bit fair. Show a tiny bit of mercy. Oh I am a hopeful fool, too. Still. Truly. On with it...thanks. Take care-

(And then this comes...from Lily, in a card..."even when it's difficult, she does her best to understand..." That kid has toooo much faith in me...Did I mention, no cigarettes for four days? The flu took my nicotine longing clean away...but this morning...ooohhh, I need a freaking cigar. Maybe tonight...with a glass of Blueberry wine from a friend.)

little loving gestures mixed

"....doctor, doctor, give me the news....I've got a bad case..."
Well, that's just about perfect for this day and days past...I have had the I-feel-like-death-warmed-over and/or I've-been-rode-too-hard-and-put-away-wet flu. And little loving gestures mixed in with it makes me first question some intentions. I mean- I'm hacking and coughing and feverish and JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE- and this sweeter than a blueberry pie Mainiac still comes around with poetry and flowers and wine and no whining, ever. Don't worry. I don't buy it either. He's probably an alien. For one thing- he's a big man, inside and out. Another- he's kind, even to teenagers! So, I'm thinking- martian...or, maybe a moon man. I have caught him howling a time or two... And he appreciates little things, like when I say thanks for this or thanks for that, when I laugh as the world seemingly cracks in half...I say how I appreciate this smile you've given me today. And then this extraterrestrial(?) smiles, too. Crazy, hypnotic alien stuff for sure. And we're not talking about love here, got it? Nope. This is science fiction, movie stuff, has to be...because I said so. This is my blog, and I can write about anything, in any way I want, and make it fit. Yep.
I cannot quite speak well of romantic love yet...for I never knew the size of this thing, how it might grow beyond any boundaries I lay out for it. It leaves one speechless, no words can contain it, describe it, fit it to fit. It becomes a menace when one tries to dissect it's essence-there is no ruler that can measure it, no cup that can hold it all, no mountain that can shade it. Love is borderless, beyond, below, above, around, through, in and out and everywhere...like a great ocean with no shore. So, out I'll float, with a firm boat??? built in planks of trust, friendship, respect, admiration, gratitude, joy, oh yes...joy shared, and shared and shared...always so much more than I can ever recollect or had ever hoped for. Oh, what faith have I in love? All the faith I need- is it enough, will it take more? Can I believe in it in times of trial again, will love see me through? True love? What is that? Does it mean I may borrow all I need and return it, even if it's used and worn over and over? Will it wear out or wear in? Does it not require all my attention, or do I accept it's longitude and latitude and keep flying higher, higher, to the heights of ecstasy and beyond? Are these questions to be questioned or should they be accepted as a doubter of love or a wonderer of love? Help me please, you lovers true and lovers old- what do you know that I do not? Does gray become you, in love?
For a true wonder, I'm awfully lost....happily, most sweetly, truly lost in some deep woods... compass isn't working, mine only points to North and South and East and West-which way is love? Pop quiz here, you will be graded by your comments- your answers must be felt from the heart, your experiences, or perhaps...if it has evaded you as well-speak of an inspiring love that you have observed-perhaps your grandparents? And if nothing comes to mind, it's ok. Have a good day anyway-hope the hearts and cards and candy don't drive you all to drink- I'm just saying, be careful. Love can sure make a sober fellow stinking drunk...
Take care-

Pictureless Post

I have precisely 8 minutes to post, I must get into town to take my daughter to work, insurance and all keeping us imprisoned in our carless universe. Though not truckless...but it's cold outside, and the old girl does not heat up until you get from point A to point Be...that is when the heater kicks in. Fun, exciting adventures every cold day. Oh, and in the summer? Yep, she'll blast you with an internal engine combustion that makes a sunburn pale in comparison. No electric beaches for me, nope- I just naturally redden on engine fumes. Ha, the life...
But real quick, I work in a local cafe- "The Wild Hare", imagine, me- working some place like that! We never know who we might be entertaining...ghosts, musicians, politicians, and angels?! Yep, met another one again Saturday... a picture taking angel. I was in the company of a profoundly gifted artist, her pictures spoke of a different dimension- one that cannot be seen with eyes, but felt within. This young lady blew me away, so beautiful were her photos that I felt compelled to say so...in my analogical Terryese. Hope I didn't scare her, she was beyond the typical tourist, artist...her visions captured on film, well- you wouldn't believe your own eyes, and you shouldn't either- something of her work is spiritual, higher-profound.
So- good day to you, perhaps I'll link to her some day if she is open to it. I'll have to get permission, and hopefully some focus on a family issue seen through her lens. Take care-

Surrender, swim and smile

As I wrote to a friend this morning, and began the thought process of what might flow here this early morning..., (a friend who just came back from a glorious trip and found?) I'm waiting to sit down at her table and absorb- soon. But first- I have so much to do...with money. I have a contractor building a room in my shed to fill the needs of a simple soul who needs a home, she has found one. And I have found in her a pioneer spirit, willing to help out on the farm-win win, good use of moola. Insurance company- car totaled 4 weeks ago today, fella ran a stop sign, daughter in the wrong place at the wrong time- guess who's paying out the wahzoo for that one? Poor use of time and energy and the almighty buckaroos. And finally- the lawyers. Leeches. If I ever need an attorney again, I shall check for a pulse (a lesson?) I did not do that, I trusted in their representation-but I assure you, it was not me or my interests they represented. (A LESSON!) Yep, next time I will definately check for that pulse, maybe even bring a nurse along- no pulse- no heart. So- as of yesterday, my birthday- I let some things go, and some things- I let come. Surrender, swim and smile. That about sums up that mess. Oh, and yes- I did fly a bit too.
Emma, Mathew, and Lily took me out to dinner, an italian restaurant there in Springfield(Palermos-wonderful). Even the fine glass of wine I had could not fade out the knowledge that my children and I are years apart in entertainment. Oh, we had fun and with great joy I spent the dinner hour with them, but that hour continued on into another-and much like as they were when children in church- the little monkeys appeared. Aren't teenagers wonderful? Oh they tried their best to be respectable, really they did. But over an hour of goodness and manners wore on their little monkey souls- they could not contain the apes inside and out they came. And the zoo keeper in me came out too- they had already been fed, how else could I keep these monkeys of mine appeased? Eat quicker, get out the door into the car and aaaarrrrgggghhhh! The magic of my special day had worn off-they no longer cared if I liked the music on the radio-their democracy of 3 against 1 took control. I'm a year older, I tire easier, I was stuffed and could not bear to part with much more energy...so I listened. I'm smiling now, but I assure you-the long ride home was a reallllllly long ride home...
All in all, a most wonderful day- took myself out to lunch, read the book "The Razor's Edge" drank a margarita, tipped my sweet waitress big, she was a jewel. Went to JC Penneys, shopped for lingerie! Never in my life have I parted with money so foolishly, felt nervous and silly, thought the world was just over my shoulder- looking at the panties in my hand! But...it felt good too, who knew a farm chick like me could feel so girl like, so feminine, so sexy....yep, I did. (But I left the tags on everything, just in case- )still, I'll try them out- those girly things, who knows? Maybe I am more woman than even I ever knew (or cared to admit?!)!
Out in the fields with my bibs on, my hair up, my leather work gloves on, shoveling manure and wearing intimate apparel? Oh, too funny- I'd giggle at myself all day, don't see nothin' wrong with that! Hey- do they make sexy long underwear? Thermal thongs? Just wonderin'-
Take care dears-
T

(a sparrow too)

Much has occurred between the beginning and the now...I've learned so much, forgotten too some lessons worth forgetting. But this I know and know too well, love never really dies- happily, sadly- hand in hand, it's gets us through the darkest times. So-with tremendous gratitude, with thanks of praise and acknowledgement...I find myself full. Good day to celebrate, to be alive- what a gift indeed. Take care-




As Prompted...

To be in some way distressed with myself
by words I must convey
a language I try to interpret
to others who do not say
such words as depth and beauty,
beyond or even blue-
Deprived are they
of poetry
so dim must be their view.
I try to speak of a writer's soul
but it's mine that I know best
and locked inside are secrets
at times-
most difficult to detect.
The key, I find, is experience
emotion(hardened or kind)
these I use to draw out the words
straight from my heart- not my mind.
There, I've tried to tell it all...
(or some of it anyway-)
A writer's soul, that of my own
so true and unafraid.




I've always had these wings and feathers
maybe even the strength to rise,
aware this day of one sure thing
-know please, you've helped me fly

And this name I try to live up to
(the one that gets me by...)
hints of wonderous things like feathers!
though singed- you helped me fly


and I'll cry again and cry some more
the tears have made me wise
too wise sometimes for a heart like mine
but still you urged me...fly

so fly I will and soar as well
for you and them and I
an eagle when I'm broken...
(a sparrow too), I fly

Red Rover, Red Rover send...

Good Sunday morning,

Not a day that I would typically write, but...a casting of ballots is on my mind, my very simple mind...so, I will take the time to convey my thoughts on the presidential ballot.
I could say many things about the all too much brothers and sister in arms, fully locked tight, their family tree the same Bush. But, I would only then persuade an argument, and though it could be extremely interesting to stir the pot up a bit and watch it boil- the time has come to lay down a vote. The arguments, the logic-if any, has all been talked to death and any negative I might add would certainly just be shoveling another scoop of dirt on the already piled too high hill.

Do you remember, as a child-playing the game Red Rover? Let's see if I can help-"Red Rover, Red Rover send Terry right over..." The other side of kids, big and little-would hold hands tightly, trying to barricade your thrust through their line as you ran at it full speed. If you busted through, you took (if you were smart, and playing the game to the hilt) the strongest of their members back to your own line of defense-thereby your own line- strengthened. Now I see the policy makers like that, only-they don't play so fair, instead of locking hands and holding tight-they lock arms, making it almost impossible for even the strongest, most idealistic, most change promoting guy or gal to get through. Sometimes...perhaps one doesn't get through after all and joins their rank- my point here, what if one who has a gift for uniting joins up? And he in turn, now in their game, in their line-gets to call another from the other weaker line, (still talking about Red Rover here)...but in that game, if you recall-there is the option to call the whole of the other team across. The thinking there is you already have their strongest, only the weak links are left, they cannot bust through-in arrogance, they that are left are called. And what if, and this is the biggest if in this whole story, the uniter calls "Red Rover, red rover, send everyone over!" And every one starts to become united in one big line-all for one and one for all. Imagine the change such a line of strength and weakness, all aligned-might evoke?

My vote: Red Rover, Red Rover send Obama right over.

(I don't know if folks really bother to look at all the older posts when deciding if it's worthy reading in the long run...I'm going to do a bit of back pedalling here...my intial reasoning here was based upon my kid's reaction, awakening to the freedom of their vote...I have Mr. Obama to thank for that. But, this day finds me revisiting this post. The kids have awakened...but Obama, McCain seem more like zombies these days, followers. The signs they hold say Yield, I personally encourage Approach With Caution- don't know how I'll vote. I'm even contemplating letting the dog decide for me...at least he's loyal, and seems to hold a great deal of empathy for me and mine- that's more than I can say for our presidential choices today.)

I don't know if I'm right, I don't know if he's right, but concerning all the rest-I'd rather spend my one little voice of a vote on a uniter, not on the united state of the same old gamers-power,prestige- poverty of spirit. To my eyes and my own research, observations- Mr. Obama illuminates, and hopefully will reunite the masses like no other candidate thus far. I do not like this mess we're all in- I'll do my best to clean it up- one soul, one word, one action, one vote-at a time. Imagination and inspiration aside- I will give this guy a chance to walk the talk. I hope he gets that chance, or at the very least-enough votes to make the world wake up and take notice that many more than had ever been expected-have voiced the vote for a much needed change in direction.
Thanks for listening, and thinking, and remembering a game...
Take care-

A stir of echoes

Beautiful title. Can take no credit, but isn't it a wonderous thing to ponder? Echoes. That's all I really do here- echo. Did you ever wonder on pebbles, stones cast upon a still lake- the ripple effect? Or, a voice upon the water-can have the same effect? Is it the voice, the breath, or? Deeper still- echoes ring?

"If any little word of ours can make one heart the lighter,
If any little song of ours can make one life the brighter-
God help me speak that little word, and take my bit of singing-
And drop it in some lonely vale to set the echoes ringing."

Isn't that the most beautiful thought?
I was quite taken with that lyric, found it in an old antique manuscript, can't even remember where, or how I came upon it. A wonderful creed to live by...hangs in my kitchen, crudely mounted on a Salvation Army find, there by the back door where I wanted always to be able to be reminded of it's message. Truly, there are days when I do not notice it. Shame on me for not noticing enough-the echoes. In my list of favored sites "Food For Thought-When Your Hungry"- the ringing of echoes. I can see enough folks stop in, by the profile view thingamajig...hope they notice the side bar, the offside thoughts...
I do hope that more would comment, but it is enough I suppose-that they are at the very least awakened by the ringing here.
"...am I young enough to believe in revolution, am I strong enough to get down on my knees and pray,and am I high enough on the chain of evolution to respect myself and my brothers and my sisters and perfect myself in my old peculiar way."- Kris Kristofferson (Pilgrim's Progress, what a wisened one...)

Snow day, could not resist the urge to write of echoes...in seeing the snow, feeling it's intense message of "Be alive!"-wrap up the fray, take on the day, come out-come out and play. Yep, here I go...take care-