Thursday, December 27, 2012

FF55 12/27/12, Evergreen Park

Cold night
golden moon above,
clock chimes.

Round wooden bandstand
brown park bench,
lean back.

A turning felt Fedora
Inky paper pages,
eyes peer over.

Two arms swing back        
tall shadow rises,
small feet flee.

Grab handful hair, twist
blue ornery pulses,
constriction wrists.

Long fingers grip a knife
red impressions on heart,
danger passing.

Friday, December 21, 2012

FF55, 12/21/12, Memories

A deep scent of evergreen
fills the living room,
sparse fragile ornaments
and delicate icicles
are all that adorned our tree.

A fireplace mantel for
stockings, a Spanish table
for the wooden creche.         
Classical choral singers
boomed with organs,

Ski's were carried
to the porch for waxing;      
Champion flyer and toboggan
propped for midnight runs!

                                                       Merry Christmas everyone! I am soooo looking
forward to singing Christmas Carols on Monday evening; at home and Church- Enjoy!

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Mag 148, 12/16/12, Roads
















Photo by Andy Magee


        The roads of life up and down, twine and whine under tires.
Flow and float where you can, taking side routes when possible.
      I am grateful today for warmer weather, my friends, family.
We may see ice later, but for now I can smile and enjoy
the Peace- Season and music!  Saying a prayer for those 
in grief and pain . 
      Hope everyone is able to find some Joy and Hope in their
celebrations. 


Friday, December 14, 2012

FF55, 12/14/12, Thud

        "Creee-ak- snnappp"
Jerk- with no
premonition flowing after.

Senses press outward
I held my breath,
but no motion followed.          

A few days later
" I am tired"
 My husband says.

A few weeks after:
"We need to sell the house."

At lunch last Sunday
his Mother at 88, smiles
"Would you move here ?
I need help."  


                                               
                                    

Friday, December 7, 2012

FF55, 12/7/12 To Relax

Unlock the accordion metal gate,

Unbolt the knob- slide the door and go inside.  

Close it up and push every button on the pad,

then wait  for the wonderful Panorama's to arrive !    

Snow in the desert, thunder and lightning over a caustic sea-  

You don't have to get off, you can step back and sit!

                                                                                       

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Erasure Poem , 11/29/12- 12/3/12

          Thanks go out to last weeks challenge, D'verse: An Erasure poem.
I had fun! I did not link. (I would choose to rearrange the layout on this but I resisted.)
     Taken from the first page of chapter:" Turning the Soil".(Page 13)
From:    The Wild Braid, Stanley Kunitz, w/ Genine Lentine .
        WW Norton & Co.       c.2003.
                           

                                         Cultivating

                  life
                                        of a world
                  experience,
                                      that depended on
          interplay of forces;
              in turn,  responded to my touch, my presence.


                                                Praise it leads

                 between the self and
                 the single flower
                       harmony     among all aspects of
                       domestication        taking                    

  the wild,                 elements that             shine

                               holds infinite possibilities. What sense
  its kingdom                       to convey?   It represents
                                                                      beautiful.
                           




Sunday, December 2, 2012

Mag. 146,12/2/12 Monday at 4

                                                                       Object to be Destroyed by Man Ray



                                   " Ticketa, ticketa-" The metronome was set fairly slow .
 " Now dear! start again-" Mrs. Millers stubby unpainted finger pointed at the music.

 Sitting very straight I lent forward and began to play once more.
                                    Mrs. Millers finger waved with the ticker. When I lagged
in uncertainty, Mrs. Millers finger wagged with more emphasis.
                                     I could hear the sharp intake of breath that preceded her
 next attempt at encouragement." Better Aggie!" and after a slight pause; 
" Here " She pointed,"You are to have a slight crescendo!" Which made me pound a
 little more energetically for a few notes.
                                     This was my homework piece - so I was slightly more confident.
 However I knew a new piece would be lurking in the near future; then I would not get off with such ease.
                                      Sure enough five minutes later Mrs. Miller drew out a double 
sheet, unfolding and pressing it open." A Waltz my dear- a whole new arena - much 
slower and easier pace. Let me show you!"
                                      That was when the metronome became my hypnosis machine, 
which helped my eyes learn how to glaze over and even try to doze a bit...
                             




                                                              







Thursday, November 29, 2012

FF55 11/30/12, Free Fall


Wise Ones say: The material plane,
and earth- is dense.
What if this equates to thick oatmeal?

Teachers say : There is never going to be
any more God here,
than there is : NOW-

So just jump off into the unknown
Trust life is safe, fall back!
You can land on oatmeal
and not get hurt -


        This is my brain wrapping around various readings and teachings about
"Enlightenment". Between Buddha and Guru's ; I sometimes try to give myself
a more humorous approach...

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Mag 145, Nov. 25 '12, In the Studio


         I had been staring off into outdoor space, leaning an elbow on the back of the red
leather settee our live models often used.
           The assignment was to somehow bring our study of the human form up
off the page. Four others in our class were spread into corners of the studio, sketching away.
           I turned and went to the closet. Several canvas smocks smeared with paint hung
on hangers and hooks.
             " May I use some of these -and those towels?" I waited for a nod from
Ms. Lellythe ; then pulled them out and began ripping them into various lengths and widths.
       I soon had interesting pieces for my human form. I made a wire frame, wrapped it in
 rags, plastic bags and then used the cloth for skin and clothes.
                  At the end " Megan" stood about two feet tall and was pose-able.
Since then I have made a taller Ballerina and some fairly life-like child dolls; one
who actually looks more like a scarecrow and is dressed in a child's overalls and shirt.
                                        Ms Lellythe and the studio are long gone, but her soft spoken
encouragement remains.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Mag 144, Spring

                                                   *Squall*, 1986, by Andrew Wyeth

                          One Sunday, I had just  finished reading a story about another 

family who lived on an island and in a light house.Only difference was the light keeper

 was the young girls Father. One time they had a series of spring storms; and last 

one in the group the young girl- Marie had slacked off a tiny bit. The family cow 

was eagerly searching out tiny nibbles of green .She frisked here and there among 

the rocks and ended up over the wall,down along the sandy edge by the dock.
.
                          When a Squall came up quickly one afternoon Marie was sleepy

 after lunch;and it was her Mother who sounded the alarm about the cow. 

It took Marie's two brothers, her father and a good strong rope to hoist that 

cow out of the mire near the water

                       I had been reading since lunch and when I looked out the wind

 had come up;and the sky was darkening fast.

                           " Helen!" My husband called out coming around from our small 

patch of garden. " Have you seen the calf ?" 

                          " No - nor Mercy since this morning!"'

                          " Grab the glasses and let the dog out would you?

 I don't want to be searching for those two in the rain!"   He didn't have to say

 another word -I was four steps ahead, I had just read a story I had no wish to repeat!
           

Thursday, November 15, 2012

FF55, 11/16/12 Pic-A-Nic-a

Hiking the Trail
on a holiday,
you spy unknown people
around a table.

The technique:
grab some dry crumbs, 
an almost empty PB Jar
Take a knife scrape- hard!

Cough, squeeze a tear from
an eye- and Hallelujah-      
Yogi  succeeded!

First a sample offering,
with a bit more work
you trade stories for a feast!


 
                                                 More Fun from the spooky legends and true
Tales of  JR "Model T"  Tate. Who hiked the Appalachian trail end to end 3 times!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Mag 143 11/11/12 , Hot and Dry

                                                  Verdun, 1917 by Felix Vallotton


"Fire in the hills!" 

"Lightening ?" My friend asked, since I had the binoculars.

" Hard to say- it reminds me of a battlefield-"

Black smoke everywhere- well -in Glass valley,from the river and spreading!"

 "Now the sirens are starting!" The sounds rose up the scale, toward wailing, 

even shrieking. We both cringed.

" I hope it wasn't from a camp fire."

" I hope it wasn't arson!"

We exchanged glances, recently the nearby prison had released

several people who had completed their sentences. One of those

was a convicted arsonist....

Thursday, November 8, 2012

FF55, 11/8/12, Scraping Heaven


The echo of thin footing
in a cold shifting mist

is buffeted by wind
through small white crosses

dotting the presidential range
running 25 miles with granite

peaks above the tree line.
    
Wraiths of history and mystery
seem to twine starkly with our creator,

way high on the Appalachian Trail
in New Hampshire's White Mountains.



                  I was lost in the stacks at our library briefly yesterday,
searching for an author who wrote about local history of the Quabbin Resevoir,
(Ware, Ma.)What I landed on was just as good, because I love The Appalachian Trail
 as well! and this is a book encompassing legends and tales spanning its
 fabulous length.Thanks to the great research and creative telling of a long time hiker: JR "Model T" Tate. From 2006.















Sunday, November 4, 2012

Mag 142, 11/4/12, "Smile-!"

                                               
                                               Charis, Lake Ediza, California, 1937 by Edward Weston
     
            " Shahiriz ! Killer of the giant prehistoric Lizard!" I grinned at my companion.
          Emily was beat and in no mood for my games. She cocked her head,
          "You drag me all the way out here, into the middle of nowhere- supposedly
          to pose for a painting in this ghastly weather-" She threw an arm out to indicate 
           the wasteland around us.
          "I  know I am sorry -"  I squinted into the sun and then back at her as she 
          slid down to sit by the rock face. " Let me rest for a moment."
              I passed her the water canteen." How about we change plans ?
           I photograph you for a while and then we will return home." 
          And that was how I ended up with 25 black and white photographs of my 
          good friend and model Emily Troop.


Saturday, November 3, 2012

FF55 A Great opportunity

Tattered and torn
 the clothing is
shattered and shorn
 the housing is-
flattened and tossed
the coastline is
sheared and shredded
the power lines are-      

Resilient and hopeful
spirits are
warm and sharing
hearts are
welcome and giving
people become  

"I have extra-"
"I found it here-"
So the word spreads
and a web grows !

           It is weary to think of all that stands before the residents to our south-
I have felt exhausted, grateful and optimistic all week. I wasn't here to
partake of G man's FF55 on Fri. Yet this came all on its own this morning-
so I will post and link it late.  Have a great weekend!

Thursday, October 25, 2012

FF55,10/26/12 Mouse and Rat Eater

I got the creepy crawlies
at 5 am on any given morning,
I drove to the Old Mall,
let myself in the back    
and pitta-pattered along the dim
hallways to the pet store.
Then in pitch black to turn on the lights.
Sometimes I tripped over
the bosses 16 foot python
loose for exercise ...



                                 Sorry to say I never knew if the snake
was out or not. Sometimes when I turned on the lights
 his aquarium was full, -or not.
 He was very heavy and powerful,
so he would stay loose till the
boss arrived as late as 10 sometimes -
4 hours wore on my nerves...   Happy Halloween !

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Mag. 140 10/21/12 Best Friends

                                                                           


             It was so strange to step up behind the plywood painted in detailed green on one
       side and  peer through that little triangle.
           " Try not to blink!" Marie yelled and slammed two water balloons fast,onto the
          wood,splashing and splattering water everywhere. Including of course my face!
        "Oh yeah sure!" I yelled, ducking reflexively. I darted out from behind the 4X4 foot
     wide piece propped up in our back yard. "You go try it!"            
   
           And then the chase was on, because Marie was NOT going to be tagged or
       bullied and pushed into going behind that board. She ran and I chased all over the
        neighborhood !
         Behind McPherson's down the alley between Smiths and Michael's
      into a garage and then down across the yard to Thomson's.
     She darted and twisted  us right through the shrubbery and up onto
     the back porch and into her kitchen.
    "Whoa! stop the rodeo right now!" Her Father yelled; reaching out and scooping
      her off her feet. " Hold on -"  
     Of course I had put on the brakes immediately.
     "Sit Freckles-" He pointed at me and then the chair by the table. I sat.
     " And you-" he swung Marie forward, plunking her down beside me "Freeze!"
     She froze. And that was how we came to be slathered in orange Mercurochrome
     and then presented with a generous slice each,of fresh peach pie with whip cream.
         A very unexpected, favorite way for a hot Sunday afternoon to end.




Grandma's Goulash week 83




                             
  The little orange and white fish was worried; every time someone lifted or set down the plastic bag, all his friends and family got bumped !

       I tripped over Jinksy's post this morning and couldn't resist joining in!  140 words and spaces. Thanks-





Friday, October 19, 2012

FF55 10/19/12, Toe Tapping in March



Our first official date
in early Spring of 1989,
we laughed our way
up the steps of
a train car diner

Slid onto red vinyl seats,
with grey swirled Formica
had sugar, salt napkin holder
standing by the jukebox
on every table .
Three songs for 25 cents  
a sing along with Cheeseburg,
fries and a coke!



                                         A note to those who came by last week- My neighbors finally
put up their inflatable decorations for Halloween! There are about 10 crowded together along the grass-
Did I say  they had a dracula ?!

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Mag 139, 10/14/12 Midnight

                                                          Midnight Snack, 1984, by Curtis Wilson Cost

                                                 
                                        She had been waiting and waiting for her Father to go to bed.
                                    It had been twelve hours since they had made camp here on top
                                    of this low ridge with a good view of the homestead.
                                        Sarah looked over at her Mother's blond and silver hair
                                   flowing over the top of the sleeping bag beside her. She could just
                                   hear her soft breathing. Sarah sighed, her Mother had gone to bed
                                  after eating a light fish dinner, they had cooked on a neat little fire.
                                        She knew how full she had gotten from the hunk of bread
                                 and fish- Not very... There is a nice side of venison hanging up
                                 in the shed down there. She felt for the sheath hanging off her belt;
                                 and picked up the binoculars again.
                                     Her Father sat at the table, just inside the kitchen door writing.
                                The newspaper folded neatly beside him.What are you doing ?
                                 who are you writing - Joe ? Her older brother had moved further
                               west several years before.                               
                                    She saw her father fold the letter and put it in an envelope.
                              Then he opened the newspaper and shook out some bright
                              little objects flashing in the light.                                                                                                                                                           
                                Sarah jumped to her feet, grabbing for the flashlight and running
                            toward her Father's cabin. He threw Mother out and had promised her                            
                            help! -I think those maybe diamonds-!
                                                                          

Thursday, October 11, 2012

FF55 10/12/12 Downstreet Silent Haunts


Below us stretches
a meandering white house
with a narrow stretch of lawn
and a single shapely tree.
Only a ring of china elves
and mushrooms cluster by the steps.
Rather than its usual booming, blooming
sway of swollen orange figures;
a Frankenstein, Great Baron ,Cinderella
balloons leaping, leaning and reaching with music and cackles!

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Mag138,10/7/12 8oz Heaven


                                                         
Sick Woman, 1665, by Jan Steen

                 " Marguerite, Marguerite-" Thomas was beside himself.
"What now dear one?" He took her pulse, " Steady and a bit slow-"
   He paced a bit more, hands clasped behind his back. Then peered down at her head
resting on a pillow. " Eyes open and vacant-" He rubbed his chin. " Migraine
last week, tooth ache- ?" Is that what Mrs. Colbert had said this morning ?
   He marched toward the door intent on finding that poor lady for confirmation.
*Sigh* It is too late now-she will have gone home...
    He turned abruptly and struck something with his toe, it went skittering away
ending up under the bed. He followed and knelt down to retrieve it.
    " What- ?"  The brown glass bottle was stoppered with cork and empty. He opened
the container and sniffed. "WHEW!" he jerked the offensive vial away from his nose.
What-he racked his memory for a name and yanked up the skirt of the four poster bed
again, peering into the dim depths. "Ah-hah!" Three more bottles lay further underneath.
     At that moment the door opened and a gentleman peered in. 
    Thomas got up." Peter-come in, please-" And turned as the elder man entered,
"Has Marguerite been well? I came to say good night and found her like this-"
He waved to indicate the lady reclining near him. 
   " She has been calling for medicine regularly of late-" Peter stood by the door.
    "Why?" 
   " Her stomach I believe-"
     Thomas blinked thoughtfully." Do you recognize this scent-?" He held out the bottle
The man came forward and took it from his hand.
   His reaction was similar to Thomas's."How foul-" He shoved the bottle back.
  " Pain or poison ?"
  All the grey haired man could do was shrug."Good question-I guess we must 
investigate,"He glanced at the sideways lady who had not moved. "Before it is too late."


   

                                

Friday, October 5, 2012

FF55, 10/4/12, You Can Make It Up



The other night
sedentary from supper;
I didn't want to get up
off the couch at 7:25
and go out in the rain.

My husband was no help
"It is yucky out."                                  
Twenty-seven years ago I wanted
to take a class in Tai Chi.            
Finally I had class # 3,
and I couldn't move.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Mag. 137, 9/30/12 . Mysterious Uncle

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman

          " Not silver"  Mark held up one ornate fork. " These fit on that photo paper-
I tried it."
          Eric stood snapping photo's with his digital camera."This is weird-"
He rolled his large buggy eyes around, to take in the shadowy cabin. " Are
you sure he used this as a darkroom?" He waved an elbow, indicating all the
 cobwebs and mouse droppings.
         "Yeah man, I spent quite a bit of time in here with him" Mark got up." It was
ten years ago- I was young." He spun on his heel- " Photo's used to be really
complicated-" He pointed to a long bench. " Trays for developer, stop bath; over there-"
He spun right " Rope for drying.You hung them up."
          Eric followed his friends motions. " Like laundry?"
          Mark nodded. "They sold the enlarger. It used to sit over here-" He took three
giant steps to another table. "It was as tall as I was then!" He held an arm up overhead.
          Eric whistled softly.
          "That closet was where he developed all the film-where no light could get in."
          " Sounds like a magic act-"
          " Kind of was!" Mark smiled, " Watching surprise images appear on a white,
blank paper!"

Thursday, July 26, 2012

FF55, 7/27/12 Part 2, Suspended Alongside.

For the two men, then I
these links may as well be chains.
Yet his smile was so wide
and his hair so curly;          
The fine memories
spring up among his photographs 
mostly black and white
Clouds surrounded in echos
of his laughter;
and my Shepard running full tilt
captured airborne behind the pond.



    One of my favorite bloggers- and there are a few! - made a suggestion that I
give myself an opportunity to continue with last weeks story. I just finished reading
a piece in The Sun, Magazine - about the disappearance of a person
who is dear and close to us...

Toads, 35: Turn The Key To Start My World

Sun shines with aqua
on flowers and trees, outdoors. 
 spacious home
with art on walls          
 books on shelves,      
food on plates.
Husband, friends
and animals grace each day ;
with prayer,laughter
work and play !                      

 This started late with Mama Zen- and then somehow linked up with Theme Thursday- thanks to Brian landing here! anyway it is fun-

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Mag 127, 7/22/12, No Pause

                                                           Figure Eight, 1952, by Franz Kline
     
                                                  The instructor gave us  8 seconds.
                                               " This is all about gestures and important elements."
                                               I thought about recent events in my life.
                                               " Ready? you can look around and capture
                                              someone or something here- or pull an image
                                               from life.  Set?        -GO!"
                                               I don't know why I chose black, But I pushed
                                               the thick brush down, slurped it out of the pot.
                                               Then my dark haired brother appeared
                                               in his tux, standing hands clasped in front of
                                               the pine and spruce; in my parents side yard.

Friday, July 20, 2012

FF55, 7/20/12 The Minds Eye

Did you hear
some deep and distant thunder     
as a tolling of a heavy bell       

that caught the core of you
when news came on the radio.
The mind became a cinema       

seeing a hiker with a round brimmed
hat and back pack;                    
Is death going one town over
from the small planes, woody crash site ?



    This piece is only a tiny part fiction and a long time forming.
It could be called a friends passing, but it is more complex...
This, minus a few details is an unfinished writing of 15 years ago.
It still requires some plumping 55 would not allow...

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Mag 126, 7/15/12, Sunday Morning


                                                                    
                                                                                         artwork by Jack Vettriano


A dreadful night, just dreadful-
She felt like a teen age Cinderella-gone-wrong.

Her sigh shuddered.
Her cigarette was out
She had quit months ago anyway...

She turned from the window
Time to go down stairs and check on Ethan.

She stepped back into her heels
and tottered toward the mirror.

Oh my- the left eye was turning a nasty color;
Ice would be good- meanwhile,
She reached into her little purse

A comb came away
and she ran it absently through
the lock that had tumbled out

Managed to free a pin
and tuck it up with the rest.

Oh Mary- I am so sorry-


She bit her lip and reached for the door
Will my sister ever find it in her heart 
to forgive me ?

Thursday, July 12, 2012

FF55 7/13/12 News Flash

A Sighting!  Lincoln's alter ego-or his ghost?
Seen somewhere between
the sunset and the light...I swear
he spent only a few thin,shadowy moments
at the Memorial in DC, rubbing his chin
" Did they need to sculpt me so large?"
They got most of the details right-
" Where in town is a good library?"

Monday, July 9, 2012

Mag 125 7/8/12 Harkening Back.

                                                      Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton

                                          Monte Sen stood in front of the painting, leaning hard
                              with both hands on his cane. His grandson looked up into his face
                              " What are you thinking about Gran pa ?"
                                         Monte Sen looked down over his half glasses, "Just
                             remembering a risk I took as a young man; on unclaimed freight."
                                         He could tell by the youngsters eager expression
                             that he wanted to hear more.
                                        " Once long ago- 1917 or so,"  I was working the docks
                            He pointed a finger over the boys shoulder, " Four wooden crates
                           sat for days- and we had to work around them." He shook his head.
                            "After a certain time I went and made an offer on them; Mr. Franks
                            gave the OK."
                                       " What was in them ?" His grandson burst out.
                                       Monte Sen smiled. "After carting them two streets over,
                           into the alley behind the apartment your Grand mother and I
                           lived in at the time- it was getting dark." 
                                       His Grandson eyes were wide.
                                    " Your Grand mother was not pleased with me for spending
                          money we didn't have. -Speculating - I think she called it."
                                       "What's that mean ?"
                                      " Gambling- a sin to some."
                            His grandson's jaw dropped.
                                     " She made me sleep outside and guard them."
                                     The boy covered his mouth to keep from laughing.
                           " The next day I finally opened them-. A painting, similar to this
                          one, was carefully wrapped and set on top of the smallest box."
                                     " Where is it Gran pa ?"
                                     " It hung in our shop for many years, behind the register.
                           Then one day a lady came in with the same last name as the artist.
                           I did not feel right refusing her- It probably was her Father's crate.
                                      The boy's eyebrows couldn't have gone any higher." Was he
                            famous ?"
                                      "No," Monty Sen. smiled. " It was from their homeland, a
                           comforting piece of family memorabilia."

                           
                                            

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Mag 124, July 1st. True Avoidence

                                                               Ophelia by Odilion Redon

                                                  " No"  I said to my to my brother.
                                                  " Please don't" I said to my friends
                                                        " Oh dear- alright- wait a minute!"
                                                   I said to my honey.
                                                   I buried my face in a beautiful bouquet of flowers
                                                  "Alright, you can take my picture now!"

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Mag 123, June 24/12 One Last Time



"Well Geoffry, how did you end up in the water this time ?"
He could tell from his fathers disgusted expression he might end up back in there;
" I-"
He got slapped for his effort.
" You know what you need to do- why haven't you done it ?"
Geoffry was going to try and say something, but thought better of it.
He got punched for thinking.
" Get out of my SIGHT-"
  He rolled right to avoid being struck again; and got kicked for his effort.
In retrospect as he scampered and scrambled away; he reflected on
his good fortune of not being clubbed, stabbed or shot .

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Mag 122, 6/17/12, Breaking Through

                                                             *Puddle*, 1952, M. C. Escher

At first glance it was as if
this were fabric- a carpet perhaps,
worn straight through into another dimension.

The skies eyes of a new world!
And then she pulled away a little,
 a step or two back.

 There would be no tire marks in fabric-
and yet with a second quick look
It is cut away like cheese that has been nibbled on!

She sat down on the  porch swing behind her
and just stared at the tree tops and sky
not caring for the moment

whether it was from this world
or the one beyond.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Mag 121,6/10/12 One Afternoon

                                                 Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean Fran├žois de Le Motte


                                                 As they  insulated the attic and  put up fresh boards
                                         on the walls, the family found all kinds of old papers pasted
                                         up from when the farm was young. Newspaper
                                         advertisements, pages from account books, receipts
                                          and IOU's.
                                                 " Mom come check this out!" Lisa and Tim shouted
                                          in unison.Wiping away dust and cobwebs,
                                         "I think it is a love song!"
                                                 Their Mother came and leaned over to see " Now why
                                         do you suppose this is here ?" they carefully took it down.
                                          There was no date on it, but the papers were all from
                                           around 1915.
                                                 " Maybe it is to a lost love-" Lisa piped.
                                                  "Maybe he never succeeded-" Tim elbowed his sister.
                                               Their Mother started to hum- she put her finger out
                                           and followed the simple tune all the way through.
                                          " Here we are-" she began to sing, and gestured
                                          to her daughter- " By the river,-"
                                          and on they went Tim even joined in toward
                                          the half way point. By the time they were finished
                                          all were smiling and happy.


                                                  

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Mag 120 6/3/12 Keep an Open Mind

                                                              image by Klaus Enrique Gerdes
            
                                                  She had first read about them in Findhorn
                                                Foundation books.This was a community,
                                                established in Scotland near the town
                                                of the same name. It's founders Peter and
                                                Eileen Caddy had built the center on dubious,
                                               difficult land. Truly it was and is a fascinating story.
                                                   Not to mock or belittle the wonderful beings
                                               supporting growing and living things from behind
                                               the scenes of our natural world .She felt the above
                                                image might be a commemoration of respect and
                                                honor to one of the many nature Deva's.
                                                   Some people are skeptical - belief in entities
                                               specific to plants and elements of the natural world
                                               was foreign to many. When she came across a
                                               reference to these beings in an ancient
                                               spiritual text; she laid arguments aside. Now people
                                               could scoff, but she was settled better in her own heart.