Shoes for Mom

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

I took Mom

to buy new shoes.

They were the

ugliest

shoes I’ve ever seen.

She said,

“These are just what I was looking for.shoes

They are comfortable.

Do you have any other colors?”

I shuddered, then smiled.

Mom bought two pairs of shoes.

I wondered,

is this my future

footwear?

ūüė¶

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What’s That Sound?

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Let’s start with the lesson one can learn from my recent experience: when you hear a sound that doesn’t make sense, get up and investigate! Let’s backup and I will explain what let me to these profound words of wisdom.

Dinner was over, dishes loaded into the dishwasher. Button pushed to start the cleaning process. I moved to the couch, sort of listening to the news while I read and commented on slices. Ding! My husband got a text from a neighbor asking him to to come over for a project he was working on. Absorbed in my slicing world, I was vaguely aware of my husband’s actions.

Have you ever used one of these?

Have you ever used one of these?

Before leaving, he wanted to get the green tea brewing. He uses a Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Pot. Water poured in – check, tea bags in basket – check, button pushed to begin the process – check. He heads out the door to meet with the neighbor. I am still semi-conscious of the world around me because I am reading and responding.

Huh-cluk, huh-cluk, this sound is annoying me, distracting me from my reading. Huh-cluk, huh-cluk, I wonder, what is in the dishwasher making that horrible noise? Finally, I get up to investigate.

IMG_1982 (1)

This tenuous connection is so important.

OMG! It’s not coming from the dishwasher! It’s the iced tea pot! The counter is one giant puddle of tea. The carafe wasn’t quite pushed into position. Quickly I grabbed towels to mop up the tea. Fortunately, it had not cascaded over the side and down the cabinets. Three hand towels later it was mopped up. I looked at the carafe, there was only an inch of tea in it. There should have been about eight inches of tea.

The tea crawled along the counter, past the narrow ledge by the sink. and on to the open space heading for the paper towels.

The tea crawled along the counter, past the narrow ledge by the sink. and on to the open space heading for the paper towels.

What to do? Pour more water in, add a couple new tea bags, align the carafe to the hot pot, then push the start button.

So, like I said in the beginning, when you hear a sound that doesn’t make sense with your surroundings, investigate!¬†If I had done that, there wouldn’t have been a puddle of tea snaking its way down the cabinet.

 

So Much Depends . . .

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

My stomach dropped as I listened to the weather forecast for the next couple of nights. Temperatures were expected to plunge below freezing. I feared for the delicate peach blossoms. I feared for the hydrangea with new leaves popping out on last year’s stems. I feared for the tulip heads peeking out of the foliage. The forecaster said, “So much depends . . . ” and my mind called up William Carlos Williams poem “The Red Wheelbarrow.”¬† Here is my version: “Peach Blossoms”

 

so much depends
upon
the night’s temperature
degree
plus softly blowing
breezes
for peach buds
bloomability.
IMG_1973

Hydrangea hides under the ghosts at the top. Tulips quiver under the shroud on the left. Reachable branches have sails clipped to the branches.

The drop cloth sheets were called into action. Fighting wind gusts, my husband and I attempted to cover some of the limbs of the tree. It was a battle, but eventually a few branches sported a white cotton coat. The hydrangea and tulip beds were much easier to drape.

IMG_1975

Left side is frosted, right side is thawed.

 

 

 

 

 

First night of freezing temperatures came and went. The covers stayed put, another night of cold was expected. Second night of freezing temperatures came and left heavy frost on everything. A few hours of sunshine sent the frost packing. The coverings have been removed. There is still hope that some of the blossoms will become peaches.

Please let that be the last of the hard freezes!

 

 

 

 

Coo-Ooo-coo

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Coo-Ooo-coo,

I stop my typing,

               look up from the computer,

                            try to determine the source of the haunting sound.

Coo-Ooo-coo,

            TV muted,

                      I step to the door,

                              venture outside scanning the limbs of the barren trees.

Evergreen wall encloses the yard,

Coo-Ooo-coo,

Low hanging clouds stifle the call,

Coo-Ooo-coo,

Cardinal perched high in the maple tree,

Cocks his head to the sound,

Coo-Ooo-coo,

Everyday the mourning dove sings

                                            Its haunting tune

                                                                 Outside my window.

Two morning doves resting in the maple tree.

Two morning doves resting in the maple tree.

 

Email Gifts

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Every morning in March, I have many gifts waiting for me in my email inbox. Without fail these same gifts are there every Tuesday. But those are not the only days I am gifted. Almost every day of the week, there is a message in my email that connects me to one of my blogging friends.

Sometimes it is related to a meme such as It’s Monday What Are You Reading? or Poetry Friday. Sometimes it’s just because a blogging friend has something to share with the world. I look for the potential of the gift whenever I find a new blog and I want to be a regular reader of this blog. It brings the blog to me. I don’t have to make the rounds in the blogosphere to see what’s happening in the lives of my blogging friends.

IMG_1949What is this bit of magic that brings posts directly to your in box? Here are three examples you might find on a side bar of a blog.

These are referred to as widgets. WordPress defines a widget as a small block that performs a specific function. It allows you to add content and features in the widgetized ares of your theme. They were originally created to provide a simple and easy-to-use way of giving design and structure control to the user. I love finding the subscribe button!

When I subscribe to a blog, I get the latest post delivered. The one downfall is that occasionally the content is not delivered in a timely matter. Some are delivered hours or even a day after the post went live, but the good thing is it arrives.

Do you have a subscribe button? If not, look through your widget selection and consider adding that button. Just think of all the gifts you might send out into the world.

 

Something to Celebrate

celebrate new

Monday my mom calls, “Can you take me to the doctor this week?”

“I’m working Wednesday and Thursday,” I replied. “What’s the matter?” She had not complained of any ailments the last time I talked to her, so I am puzzled about needing to go to the doctor.

“I fell at church. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t trip or slip. I just went down. Jackie (a neighbor) thinks maybe it has to do with an inner ear thing,” she responds.

She calls the doctor and gets an appointment for Tuesday. We go to the appointment. She brings a cane for extra support. The doctor listens. I listen and learn this fall did not happen on Sunday, but on the previous Thursday. What?! Why didn’t you tell me before today? The doctor instructs her to perform a variety of actions. He is not concerned, she has passed the neural systems test. Perhaps she has a bit of ¬†vertigo. Perhaps it could be some fluid in her inner ear. We will monitor her and see if there is improvement within ten days.

This photo was taken on her 85th birthday in February.

This photo was taken on her 85th birthday in February.

I celebrate how quickly she was able to get into her doctor. I celebrate that the doctor is not very concerned. I celebrate that I was able to take my mom to the doctor. I celebrate that I still have my mom and she is only twelve minutes away.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Soundtrack of a Place

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Thumbing through Kate Messner’s book, 59 Reasons to Write, I discovered her lesson titled, Soundtrack of a Place (p. 108). This lesson encourages the writer to write a paragraph (or two) of sounds from your place. (This place might just be in your memory)

My place is the patio. Rarely do I get to spend time in my place in the winter, but occasionally there are days when the sun’s rays and the wind’s breath allows me to spend a bit of time enjoying the patio.

It was on such a rare day that I was able to sit and collect the sounds that surround me. Sounds that I don’t hear, not because they are not present, but because they are part of the sound landscape that blends into the normal so they are no longer unique, requiring attention.

At first, gentle, quiet sounds meet my ears. Leafed bushes rustle in the breeze.

A robin adds to the soundtrack

A robin adds to the soundtrack

Birds¬†twitter. In the distance, a crow’s caw, caw floats across the field to my yard, more gentle than harsh by the time it reaches me.

Listening more intently brings the hollow echo of a hammer. Each blow of the hammer constructing a skeleton, eventually becoming a house, a home. Sometimes I hear tap, tap, tap. Sometimes I hear thup, thup, thup. Sometimes birds chirp in response to the sounds of the hammer.

Engines invade my sanctuary. Airplanes drone above, fading as it nears the airport. Leaving me to sigh a wish for a new travel adventure. A new engine has entered into the sound landscape. Dump trucks rumble past our subdivision. They turn off the main road (half a mile away), but are immediately met by a hill. They gargle as they downshift, engine protesting until they make it to the top.

Dump trucks grumble and roar down the road near me.

Dump trucks grumble and roar down the road near me.

Sounds travel faster than the trucks. They rrruuummmbbblle down the street a few yards away from my place.

Many of these sounds are temporary. Homes will be constructed, families will occupy the homes, creating a new soundtrack. Dump trucks will complete their current job and move on to new roads. Then I will be left with the gentle sounds of nature.

What’s the soundtrack of your place?