Outside Orchestras

I often go outside and sit

For a bit of a respite

A moment of peace.

At first, all is still.

But then, the choruses

And movement begin.

I hear birds chirping

Flies buzzing

I see bugs crawling

Spiders spinning

I feel breezes blowing

Warmth descending

I smell seasons changing

Nature breathing

And then other creatures

Join in

And in my silence and quietness

There is now a chorus

Orchestrated with movements.

The richness of nature

Outside my back door.

Shoulda, Coulda and Woulda

Last night I let Shoulda, Coulda and Woulda
In our front door.
They have not visited in awhile and
I thought they might be gone.
I know better than to let them through,
But still, I did it anyway.

At the old house and before Tom,
They knew how to sneak in
But here, now,
They find us late at night.
One knock at the door and they are in.
If Tom sees them first,
He shoos them away,
But I see how lonely and pathetic they seem
And like poor little creatures
I can hardly turn them away.

The problem is
I can't help them and they won't let me sleep.
Try as I might to keep them out
They come into our room.
They don't bother Tom, but jump all over me
Poking and prodding,
Waking up old thoughts and actions
Best left alone.
For I could not change them
And most likely wouldn't anyway.

A general nuisance they are,
I must say.

Then, in the morning,
My mind has gone all swirly
And my head is somewhere
In a restless muddle,
Not a good place for me to be.

And the visitors are off, at least
Two of the three
Without a thank you or acknowledgement
Of how kind I have been
To let them in, out of the dark.

No more.  Go away.
You have had your chance,
But are no longer welcome in our home.

So now at night,
If you come to our door
Expect three barking dogs
An unhappy husband
And a kick in the pants
To send you on your way.

We hope this won't mean that they
Will be at your doorstep instead,
But it's a risk we must take.

And, Ifonly, in case you are wondering,
These new rules apply also you!

The Steel Bridge

Out in the middle
Of our big valley
Lies the steel bridge.

You would think it would
Be visible from all around
But we do not see it
Until we are almost there.
Take route 23 to the
Mini power plant
Hang a right
Drive on the dirt road
And you will cross it.

It seems strange
To have a bridge
Here in the middle
But the ground is wet
And marsh-like.
Long ago, we have been told
It was a lake.
Oh, how I wish it still was.

We let Summit out
And she ran like a puppy
Full of glee at the hundreds of swallows.
Then she would romp in the mud
And play in the water.

We have heard that you
Can put your kayak or canoe in there
And paddle across much of the valley.
It is not something I imagined
One could do.
But, of course, Tom and I
Will give it a try
Next spring when the water is high
And the reeds are low
And the birds are abundant again.

Recipes

Chili
From Maureen
My next door neighbor
My good friend.

Apple Crostata
From Colette
Her food is delicious
My sister.

Poppy Seed Dressing
From Marilyn
A confidante
And an inspiration.

Caramel sauce
From my mom
My teacher
and friend.

Savory spaghetti
From my grandma J.
Long gone
But well remembered

Cinnamon rolls
From my grandma M.
A favorite
Past and present

Grandma's chocolate cake
From Sally
Friend of my mom
And mine too.

And so many more.

New recipes
I try often
But I love opening
My treasure box
Of index cards
In the writing of those
Here and gone
A reminder of friends
Old and new.

Know that when I cook them
I think of you.

Multiple Mes

I have known for awhile
There are multiple mes
And I like to keep them
Quite separate.

There is Africa me
Who wants to save the world
Who wants to be in places
Far far away.

There is at home me
Who would be happy to stay
In our kitchen and garden
Most every day.

There is athletic me
Who wants to be out skiing
And kayaking and hiking and biking
No matter the weather.

There is business me
Who cuts to the chase
And is decisive and clear
And wants progress.

I think there are other mes too.
And when my mes collide
It throws me off
And I often get quite flustered.

And now my dear Dr. Lily
from Liberia is visiting and my
Africa world has met
My home world
And I quite like it.

And I think I've decided that rather
Than mes I keep quite separate
That I like the blended me best
For really, that's just me.

And even my blogs, my travels and my home have been separate and so I will combine them, with thoughts here and there from my travels because, although they are not from our cabin, they are of me and if that's not already what I am writing about it is how I have developed my perspective.

Advice Haiku

Always eat breakfast
Because you never know what
A new day will bring.