Sunday's Poetry Offering

My Sunday Poetry offering:

Emily Dickinson's

"Hope"

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all.

And the sweetest in the gale is heard;
And some must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest lands,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Sunday's Poetry Offering

If if we saw any snowflakes in our area they came in the middle of the night
and were mixed with a fair amount of rain. But a Nor'Easter flew up the coast leaving anywhere between 3 - 24 " in different areas. It came as no surprise when I asked Steve for one of my poetry books that he handed me Frost,
which is one of his favorites...and he wanted one of his all time favorite poems posted...(it's one of mine too). Wish our friends and family a peaceful and safe early snow/fall.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
 by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think I'm queer
To stop with a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest linking of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask e if there is some mistake,
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and down flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go begore I sleep.

The Circle of Stuff!

It was a quick trip to S.C. (picking up a car load of stuff from our daughter to bring up to NJ for our son's wedding -  they're flying/we're driving.)  It's ok to look like we may be moving - but I think it's going to look more like we're living out of the back seat! It'll be a tight squeeze but I'm sure everything will fit, it has to! Guess I've grown accustomed to having my space. Space like I never had before.

Our modest shore style cape cod house back in NJ was similar in size to this house with the exception of a garage and outbuilding which serves triple duty as a barn, my garden room, and husband's mancave workshop..arg!!!  That does make a difference. But after moving here and settling in the biggest difference I noticed was this house was practically void of any kids stuff!

There were no longer bicycles lying on the ground in the middle of driveway, or toys and books stacked up on each of the three steps that led up to the
landing of our staircase... just waiting for a passerby to take interest and bring them up or down!  Gone were the skateboards, surfboards, various sized boogie boards, and a vast variety of sports gear with the exception of my softball bat bag, which is neatly tucked away in the hall closet.

Everything else has either been turned over to its rightful owner (one of our kids), discarded if broken, or stored away in the barn.. somewhere! The toys and bicycles are gone although we've been entrusted to keep a few boxes
filled with an assortment of trophies, awards, scrapbooks, and yearbooks. All the memorabilia of childhood and adolescence. I can state with all certainty that our daughter holds the family title for the most boxes of "stuff".  Seems the boys have little or no emotional attachment to such things with the exception of maybe that game saving ball or set of special drum "sticks?"

For a while now; unless we become lazy, the stairs are free of clutter and we coast up the driveway at night without giving it a second thought. From the
day we moved into this house I felt there was more room than I knew what
to do with. Ahh, but then we came back from S.C.!  That's when I began to  notice the shift. So subtle I didn't notice it 'til now.

It began with the crib in the downstairs den where several furry creatures have
taken up residence. Next to the crib are two small riding toys. The corner of our great room has a box filled with blocks and a hodgepodge of toys and the
bookcase is sprouting a collection of childrens books. It's become an adventure to get past the high chair in the pantry but it really hit me when I went back
out to the garage. Hanging on the far wall is a stroller, car seat and plastic wading pool. Just below them is a new radio flyer, waiting to take its maiden voyage!
 
The "Stuff" is returning!! Making its way slowly into this house! Today I hung a fingerpainting on the bulletin board. Haven't done that in a very long time!

           
Isn't it Beautiful?  The once quiet corners of this house have been transformed by a new circle of life! It's a wonderful feeling! Finally, this house feels like home, merely by the simplicity of a little kid clutter. I never realized how much of my life was in all that stuff!

Sunday's Poetry Offering

Our back road day trip was fantastic! There were so many wonderful vistas
and beautiful farms draped in fall color. We had frost here this morning! Perhaps that's why I thought of Robert Frost... who knows? This is a poem
by him called:

A Late Walk

When I go up through the mowing field,
the headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth,
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry home to you.

Taking Stock

                                
It's been a busy week of writing and rewriting. But with color is at its peak, I couldn't miss the opportunity to enjoy my favorite season and the beauty of Virginia's country roads. Most of us live on, drive by, or even commute past some of the prettiest places but more often than not, life just gets in the way of our view. Yesterday, we put aside that 'to do' list (it's still sitting right here on the counter - and it isn't going anywhere. In fact, we usually just add more to it til we run out of room. Then start a new list!) But just for the day we took to some of the back roads that are just past our back door -  and what a delight!

This is a ridge up near Big Island



A new friend named Shadow gave a "tails up!" to the day!

                          

Luv this bank barn!



One of my favorite farms.



   And there's a pretty good Peaks view right from our side porch!
The falling foliage gives way to a good view of the entire ridge line.

Sometimes it's good to pause, taking stock in the beauty that surrounds the every day.
Allow a little time to be free from worriesome things.
Think of ways to simplify and deal with "the stuff".
 Who knows? It could become a lifestyle, rather than a luxury.
   

                        
         

PSV Western Conference & Sunday's Poetry Offering

Yesterday was the Poetry Society of Virginia's Western Conference which was held at the Riverviews Art Space in Lynchburg. It was a wonderful
gallery and though the meeting itself was slightly delayed due to a locked conference room - it was finally opened and surprisingly filled with a great
exhibit - vibrant paintings that made the room dance along a long conference table and plenty of comfy boardroom type chairs (me liked!!) The new VP
of the PSV western region Tom Morris set up a wonderful conference that included readings and a workshop with poet,novelist, and playwright Jim Peterson. He engaged the group with several tips on writing and performed a couple writing tasks with the group. It was one of the best workshops I've attended!  Jim is on the faculty of the University of Nebraska's Low residency MFA Program in Creative Writing and is Writer in Residence and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Randolph College in Lynchburg, Va.  His poetry book, The Owning Stone, was the winner of the Benjamin Saltman award. Here's a pic of some of his works but there are others. I've selected one of his poems for my Sunday Poetry Offering.

Poet/Author/Playwright Jim Peterson
"The Owning Stone"
"An Afternoon with K"
"The Bob and Weave"

Jim Peterson's:

"Letting the Dog Die"

The horses thunder
in the fields tonight.
A breeze stays high in the pines.
The dog squeezes out
from under the house
and stares at the ball
til he falls asleep
curled around my foot.
For the first time in months
the air is cool.
The front door drifts on its hinges
the old chair lounges on the lawn.
The horses rest,
lean over fences
pawing the ground.
inviting my hands to their faces,
to their withers and the sweet scratching spots.
The hammock sways
under loblolly pines
and Orion's belt.
But I'm stuck to the ground
by one foot
under the sleeping dog
who dreams of lightning and thunder,
of mud at the edge of the pond,
who dreams of the flight of old tennis balls
made better than food,
better than rolling in manure,
by the touch of these human hands.

For Nancy and Beth

 I wasn't able to post a Sunday Poetry Offering...but I found this poem in the same book of poetry by R. Conrad and thought of two special women.


"Reflection"
Friend after friend has gone, hence
They shall return no more;
Their allotments now, forever fixed
On the eternal, boundless shore.

But they, I trust, have safely landed
Within the bounds of Heavenly love
Welcomed by the Angel's hand
To their unending home above.

"Gee, It's Good To Be -

"Back home again...sometimes coming home feels just like a long lost friend" John Denver. I do love the mountains so, yet I was born and raised along the Ocean. Mom brought me to the beach for the first time at two weeks old! I guess there'll always be that love for the sea, it is a part of me, where I was raised and went on to raise my own family. Often when people think of NJ  typically it's of big cities, hwys, airports, and factories, and there are plenty of those! But, I think of the sand between my toes, the crisp water, and the beautiful colors as the sunrise comes up over the horizon. And most of all ofcourse - my family.  

A familiar site - NJ Turnpike to 195 - Shore Points

The pillars that separate Belmar and Spring Lake
have been there as long as I can remember. It was
typical for these beach communities, originally established
by different churches, to separate themselves,
 some putting in a manmade lake!

Locals love weekends like this after September.
Temps were in the mid 80's, low humidity and
the water is usually warmer than it is in May.

"Boardwalkin" is what alot of daytrippers do.
Stroll along the boards, stop in some of the shops
and eat pizza!

Ofcourse I couldn't miss taking a pic of one of
the oldest and famous dance clubs at the Jersey Shore.
D'Jais!

Hard to believe that right past the picture of those pillars

is this lake, Lake Como. We lived at the end of the road

to the left and across the street from the lake.  

Parkway - The first street my grandfather had a house.
I think it was around 1946.

And our trip ended with a surprised bride!
She was a real sport, but has a great sense
of humor anyway...so we had fun.

On 11/11/11 they'll say "I Do" and dance their
first dance as husband and wife.
Their story shall begin.

The long road home!

It was a relaxing trip and a great week visiting family, the grand finale being my future daughter-in-laws shower. It started a little off being our favorite places in Alexandria and Annapolis were both booked (on a Tuesday?) 'Til
we learned there was a big sailing regatta of some sorts so we went over the
Bay Bridge where we found lodging on Kent Island. The views were great
and it was very relaxing after seven hours on the road...and D.C. @ rush-hour

Kent Narrows



Kent Narrows



I call this my "Wish Garden"...
 I have a water garden...but not like this one just outside the windown
at the Fisherman's Inn and Crab Shack

Soybean fields along 301N

Here we Go!  



Simply Poetry Meeting & Sunday's Poetry Offering

When I first began to write some poetry again after more than 20 years, give or take, I initially felt as if I were alone on a deserted island. But that wasn't the case, I just wasn't looking in the right place...or places!  What I found was amazing! From the tiniest towns and down a country mile or two come come these wonderfully talented poets and writers. One amazing poet lives just down the next road from me.  She is an educator, a mentor, and a woman who writes with such depth and clarity her poetry just blows me away. She adds a vibrant but warm ethnicity to her voice when she recites but admits it took a few public speaking classes and quite a few years of experience to find her own voice. With a collection of poetry that began as a child I believe when she feels she is ready to publish, people will want to hear her words.

Simply Poetry - I'm heading down to Rocky Mount this afternoon to attend a new poetry group. It's a bit of drive but I'm always excited to meet new
poets. I already know two of the poets from a poetry group that meets at the Blue Ridge Library. We've all emailed our poems which allows time to absorb the poem so there can be some honest critiques. I'm excited!

Sunday's Offering:  by Mary Etta Perry. Mary Etta Perry was born and raised in Okaloosa County, Fla. where she worked as a Registered Nurse from 1943 to 1993. She retired and moved to Brevard, N.C. where she began to write poetry.  This is from her collection of poetry called  "The Dance Goes On".

  Florida Autumn
Last night
autumn called on me
and left one golden
tallow tree,
one dozen
scarlet leaves
and three
chrysanthemums
for me.

She lingered
such a little while
I gave her only one brief smile
for the gracious gift
she brought to me
one gold and scarlet
tallow tree.

Mary Etta's poetry is inspiring. One admirer said "Spirit and emotion lives in
her poetry. She dares to let her soul show through, the lows as well as the highs."   Thank you, Mary Etta Perry...Dance On. 

What We Can do - For the Cure.

Initially this was to be a story in honor of my Mom and in loving memory of a
dear friend. But, I couldn't...because it isn't my story to tell...it's theirs...and
everyones.

1. One out of eight women will develop some type of breast cancer.

2. Every two minutes a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer.

3. Half of the women diagnosed with breast cancer are over 55 yrs. old.

Sounds so hopeless...and you can't help but feel helpless. October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month, but way too many women never need a month to be reminded. So for them, those loved ones gone, and those who fight on...we do what we can. Collect those pink yogurt tops, wear pink pins, and yes, have that mamogram!  Because it is October and it is National Breast Cancer Awareness month. But, some day, maybe one day, our grand-daughters will simply know it as October.  When that Race for Cure to be
over and done...now wouldn't that be something.   



For the Cure - many small pieces - help solve the puzzle.

                   CANCER
Hear the music my dear friend.
For it may never play again.
Dance through life a thousand years.
A thousand smiles, a thousand tears.
 
Eyes wide shut, yet seen it all.
With pain of heart and mind recall.
The questions asked but never known.
Will faith lead the angel flown?
       
To carry hard, it's bones do bare.
The burdened body, once so fair.
With strength to reach inside to touch.
So hard to try, and cry so much.
                    
And make due with hours of time
Each day lived, with a broken lifeline.
To fight and push it all to give.
The way to find, the will to live.
              
Through faith to find the battle done.
The war so bravely fought and won.
To hear the music that by chance
There's yet another day to dance. 

Stand tall and sing a victory song.
So millions hear and sing along. 
"I Danced through life a thousand years
A thousand smiles..a thousand tears."
(c) 2009  the garden girl

Please, Please, Don't Eat those Mushrooms!!

Last evening the news ran a story about two people hopitalized in serious
condition from eating wild mushrooms. It happens more often than people would think according to an ER doc. These things can be extremely poisonous, and according to a friend...even the mushrooms that are perfectly
fine to eat, if you have never eaten them before, just try alittle piece first.
If you are going to have a reaction, your tongue will tingle. (that's good to know when ordering a dish with wild mushrooms!)  My great/grandmother and grandmother would go out picking wild mushrooms but my mother didn't care for them and I never learned how to distinguish good from bad.

My dear friend Kate told me she would pick wild mushrooms when they lived out in Washington State. Though they look neat..I wouldn't dare eat!
Kate said she now uses them for an art technique she does but about the only thing I did was take a few pictures of them before pulling them out so the dogs don't get to them. Especially this first picture. This 'shroom was a Biggie! So big I saw him from a 2nd floor window~ and for a split second thought -  Space Junk?

This baby is one of the biggest I've seen...about 7" across at least!



This weird looking disc I saw from the 2nd floor window



This little one was cute and delicate - probably deadly though! 

EWWW! 

Sunday Offering

The book is called "Poems"
by A FRIEND.
"No wealth below is worth your care,
Look to the Lord alone,
In all your ways acknowlege Him,
And let his work be done."

The book was published in 1875, printed in West Chester, Pa.  It is noted inside the book the
poet died in West Chester, 5th month, 1st day, 1875.
Poems by R. Conard.  

     
During the past couple years I've had the honor and exciting experience of
having a few poems published here and there. Initially I was elated!! I quickly
became so confident that I began submitting works all over the place! Well
Poetry is no different than a book, you either love it, or can't get past the first five pages! There are poets whose poetry I could listen to for hours, and others I don't care to listen to at all!  Sometimes it's not the work that isn't worthy of print more so than the person reading it just doesn't feel the same connection -
as in reading a book. Hey...that's ok! Some poems I love are by well known poets and some are from poets not too unlike myself. Some simply fulfilled a life long dream. So why not celebrate them? Which is what I've decided to do. So here is my "SUNDAY OFFERING"  A poem, or two, each Sunday.
Some by poets who never thought or even grasp the concept of the world wide web (not in their time!) And, a poem here and there by myself. To share with
friends and family, and those who may connect.

This first poem is from R. Canard - the preface tells the story. There is no other information about the author in the book. It simply reads: The following verses were written by a dear friend now passed away. "sometimes as a relief to a burdened and tried mind, sometimes as pleasant recreation," and were never designed by her for publication; but it is believed these effusions of chastened spirit will find acceptance with her friends as a grateful tribute to her memory.  The poet died in West Chester, Pa., April 1st, 1875. Interestingly, inside the book I found an invitation address to a
Gertrude Steiner. It was an invitation to the 'grand opening' of a hat store called Marks Bros. on Tue., April 2nd, 1889. Perhaps this Gertrude may be the wife, or daughter, of the "friend'. I took note of the date on the invitation, which was exactly fourteen years and one day after the poet's death. Hmm, it may be fun
to see where this trail may lead!

Here is the first poem in the book:  A tribute to her mother.
To My Mother - on her 83rd Birthday
80 years had come and gone
and two more added to the past
But still thoust journey faintly on
As each day may be thy last

May He, who has prolonged thy stay
And watched thou trembling steps til now,
Guard well the evening of the day,
and smooth thy care worn brow.

And when the messenger shall come
Gentle may he summons be,
And glorious thou final home
throughout eternity.

There to rejoin the multitudes
That safely on Mount Zion stand,
Clad in their pure and spotless robes
Each one with palm, and harp in hand.
.......................................................................................................
This is a recent poem I've been working on. I really do like writing by
candlelight sometimes...it can be very relaxing. Yet Sometimes the flames will begin to flicker wildly..as if they were expressing their critique! 

Candlelight Critic

Sometimes

I write poetry

by candlelight.

pen in hand

I scatter words

and seek a simile

no one has heard.

A sudden glow

as fickled flames

in playful manner

giggle once

and even twice

if I should stammer

I read poetry

in the dark

to a candlelight critic

sometimes a friend

sometimes a cynic.

Pumpkins + Garlic + Wine = Harvest Time!

The leaves haven't quite started to turn color but the pumpkins have been harvested! The sure fire way to know it's officially autumn: the fall festival! No matter where you live across the country within the month your town will host at least one festival of some sort. But whether they call it a Centerfest, Pumpkinfest, Harvest, Garlic, Wine, or Octoberfest, the fact is our towns need us! We need to be there, supporting local businesses as well as the vendors who pull into town and set up their goods. They all have one common goal: Make a living!

Never judge a book: I feel very fortunate to have had a conversation with this interesting guy. He was quite busy making kettle corn when I asked if I could
take a few pictures of the process but struck up a conversation when I picked
up on his Jersey accent. He told me he was a certified physical therapist just trying to supplement his income. Five years ago he had his own practice until
the big orthopaedic practices and hospital systems gobbed up his patients. Big practices now have their own sports medicine and PT clinics. It's a smart move for hospitals and surgeons, pretty convenient for most of us too. But it's lights out for small private practices who can't compete. This guy now guy works for a PT/Rehab Service, traveling around the Lynchburg area, and then travels on the weekends making his kettle corn. I shamefully admit to having a different profile of this man in my mind. (My mother's words "never judge a book" keep ringing in my ear!?)

I enjoyed my walk through Bedford's Centerfest. It was their largest ever with three band stages, venues for the kids. It had a great festive atmosphere! I'm so happy the rain held off and everyone; visitors and locals alike, were able to embrace the day. Together we shared the tradition of the harvest. I bought a couple pumpkins for the front porch and yes, I stood on line for some of that kettle corn..(and it was worth it!!)

Enjoy the pics! And if you get the chance, support your town's local fall happenings. Go to their Main Street farmer's market next week or mark your calendar for its annual fall festival whatever it may be. Our small businesses are desparately trying to survive and need us now more than ever. Our Main streets will die without our small businesses. If you still believe in Main Street, like I do, then drop the big box store every once in a while. Learn a local businessman's name next week. You may just find out it's one of the best things you've done in a while. For yourself, and for the Kettle Corn man!

It can't be a fall festival without these! 



Never judge a book by it's cover - or it's kettle!



Not being a huge popcorn fan myself...I had NO idea how popular Kettle Corn is and
was wowed by the line of people waiting for a bag!



The busiest folks on Main Street!



The clouds and dull sky never did lift but on the other hand the crowds turned up.
In three blocks I heard three different bands - country to classic rock.
There really was a little something for everyone.
 We need to keep Main Street alive and the small businesses who
make up our downtowns.
  



Textures

Photography class project....finally learning how to use my Nikon. 

The End of Summer - yields down - hopes high!

For Me: It was NOT an exceptional summer for gardening. Seemed like no matter how much we watered that crusted earth, it was just as dry the next day. But, rather have the garden go dry then our well! We had a small yet decent crop of garlic, tomatoes, onions, beans, and some leeks. Thanks to a good deal of composting early this spring I was able to keep the herbs growing. Sadly, my cutting garden seemed to fizzle. The phlox never formed their usual large heads of pink and raspberry colors. My sunflowers and black eyed susans did not disappoint, yet even they succumbed earlier than usual with a shorter bloom period.  All those days of  95 + degrees and no rain. I can't imagine how bad it must be in Texas! I just planted black seeded simpson and mesclun mix seeds. I'm Glad I didn't do that last last week. Those seeds would have been washed out clear down to the creek!!

I believe these are 'Mop Head' Hydrangeas...I put the small pot last summer at
flea market. They bloomed all summer long...and really added color well after the
azealas and rhodis were done blooming.

 

 Good Bye Black Eye Susans

All of us gardeners plant each spring with such high expectations. I can't imagine how hard it must be for farmers whose lives pretty much depend on the cooperation of Mother Nature.  I highly applaud the farmers who grow certified organic fruits and vegetables. They really go to great lengths in order to bring a healthy and natural product to consumers. "Give me spots on my apples but leave the birds and the bees - please".  I began growing organic years ago, mainly because I couldn't afford all that 'stuff'!  I admit only to spraying my roses now and then. And yes, I spray anything that even remotely resembles like poison ivy!

I like sharing my yields with friends and neighbors but I've been thinking about adding a whole new row next season to share with the local food bank.

It's hard to believe; with all this beautiful farmland surrounding us, there could be families who don't have fresh produce on the table. But, there are... many! Fact is one out of every five families fall under the poverty level.
34% of our nation's children go to be hungry? In America - yes. I don't
want go into politics - the numbers are what they are. We can change that
by simply helping where we can. Planting an extra row would only be add tiny part to a very big picture. I'm going to bring the idea to the garden club this week, can't hurt - might help!

When I think about putting a few fresh organic veggies on a child's plate...
could there be any better reward for a gardener than that?

On this Day -

It is most befitting that our son Jimmie be where he is today, working with
with his colleagues atop the World Financial Tower, covering the Memorial to September 11th. For him, it was coming full circle.

On this day 10 years ago most of us knew exactly what we were doing when we first heard of the terrorist attacks. There are countless stories, some we'll never know. But rest assured they are as important to them as our stories are to us. I know where I was that day, down to that moment I knocked at my Chief's office door to advise him our country was under attack.

Things happened so quickly my head still spins whenever I think of it!  I knew my son was in New York. He called me and told me that a plane had struck one of the World Trade Center towers and that he was heading down there to meet up with the (NY1) news crew he was working with that day. He was a young kid, new to the business, and wanted that story!  I never heard from him the rest of the day. Not til very late that night. I sat in the Chief's conference room arm in arm with the detective's secretary. Her sister worked in the South Tower. No calls could get through, in or out of the City, not 'til much later that day. We all sat there in silence watching tv...hoping, praying.  I don't think people knew what to say to each other! We later got word from Kathy's sister. She decided to walk to work that beautiful September morning and was late! I finally got a
call from Jimmie....they couldn't get a news truck close to the Trade Center
so they walked. They were five blocks away from the first tower when it came down. They ran for their lives. Two lives spared among so many that were called home that day. It makes you wonder?

On this day - I knew instantly that husband Steve would be called to active duty with the Air Force. However, neither one of us could have predicted his service would be three years long, ending in Arlington, Virginia.  All said and done, here we are - 10 years later. Like all families we've had our personal losses but also several magical moments: weddings and babies. And there is nothing that renews ones spirit and the soul like the birth of a new baby.

On this day - most of us will put out our flags and attend our memorials. Some of us will recall the day with reflection...proud to stand beside a fellow brother or sister during each others own hours of anguish.  We reflect, respect, and most important.. pray that we never forget. Ofcourse with the natural passing of time, memories will slightly fade with the passing years. That is why we must look to the children...To the children of 9/11, whose young lives have already lived a  lifetime. Me must look to them..care for their young souls.
And that we honor them as we honor their parents. For this day will 'always'
belong to them.

On this Day - we must take the children out of the shadows!

In Remembrance

"Streaming blue beacons ignite through the sky, climbing toward heaven, calling to tell them. We will never forget you, We will never forget" from The Poet's Domain vol. 26...."The Towers"

          

Here Goes - Words and Weeds

Welcome to Words and Weeds - a compilation of thoughts on what I call the 'quiet crazy'...  poetry/writing, organic gardening, and sharing a view. Happy to share some pics and tips - and welcome yours as well. Thanks!