Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Google It

My grandmother hid under the bed during thunder storms.  My husband watches storms from the shelter of our porch.  I am somewhere in between, but I can easily imagine coaxing my grandmother to move over to make room for my quaking body under her twin bed.  Now it is pouring.  Moments ago I thought I heard a rumble.  My brain tripped to a notion of safety-devices off, stay away from open windows and don’t take a bath.  Don’t sit under a tree, don’t walk in an open field and don’t decide to take up golf. Don’t.  Don’t. Don’t.

I realize I don’t know the do’s. You would think that such a fear filled brain would be able to recite the steps in dealing with any natural disaster and man made one.  I don’t know what to do in the event of a tornado.  Head for the basement?  When do I stand at the threshold of a door relying on the strength of the frame to protect me?  I don’t know. Is that during an earthquake? Some people sit in empty bathtubs, don't they?  My father was the protector.  He clearly trained me in the “don’t do’s”, but failed to solidify the ‘ disaster do’s.”

I have not heard any more rumbles.  Perhaps it was an isolated thunder event in the distance?  Maybe it was a truck driving past, but then again maybe it was an earthquake? How do I prepare?  Maybe I will just “Google it.”

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Blessings of the Earth

Thick clouds cast a gray shadow over the daylight hours.

Nonetheless, I am drawn to sipping my coffee outside on the deck. Expecting to sit in quiet, I am witness to frenzy. Birds fly overhead this way and that and a chorus from every direction competes for sound space. I stand; my eyes scan the ink black tree tops. Everything is a shadow.  The squawky jays do not escape my ear. The smaller birds perhaps sparrows flit from tree to tree.  My untrained ear is of no use.   I lean against the side of the house in wait.  Uncertain of what I am waiting for I close my eyes and just listen.  I am drawn to the outside and realize just how blessed I am on this Earth Day.

Monday, April 21, 2014

the quest

The winter layers finally shed, we walk in the woods dressed like spring,  REAL spring.  Tails in wag, nose in sniff, hyper-vigilant puppies in a quest to not miss a thing. Each step  slows to the present.  Birds welcome in song.  Trees dormant all winter wear buds tightly wrapped, just in case it snows in May.  Uncertain times.  We press forward along the path of mottled light, trees cast shadows, but the sun warms.  My eyes and ears open to this moment. The only one that matters.  Now.  This day. And all is perfectly as it meant to be.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Ode to the Egg

Unlikely place to find comfort
In the sink while water runs
Between white and membrane
With gentle hand the shell releases
Presenting a perfect protein,
Gifts from our hens.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

the risk

                                                                                           Copyright: Travelinma

Is it possible to feel too deeply?
A heart that aches incessantly,
Holds room for joy too.
Cannot sorrow and joy inhabit the same chambers?

For what is a life without the highs and lows?
The fullness of heart is preferred,
Over hollow.
Is it not worth the risk?

Friday, April 18, 2014


She walked in the room.  It was stripped of everything that belonged to him.  No note.  No explanation. Nothing.  It left her empty.  Sad.

Was she responsible? She may never know.

She stood in the room.  Alone in the silence.  

Thursday, April 17, 2014

A Line in the Snow

Spring drags a line in the snow
She won’t step over,
Although wooed,
With sweet talk,
And promises.

What will come of the berries,
Beginnings still frozen deep
In slumber?

It's just not right.