Today marks another International Day of Peace. In light of this, I am sticky-noting one of my Peace Posts from 2014 for your perusal. It should appear after this post, so please scroll down or find Passion Scars here.
Category: Agrodolce Vita (Page 7 of 8)
yes, life is bittersweet
South Carolina state senator, the Rev. Clementa Pinckney, one of 9 slain at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC
“Could we not argue that America is about freedom…” South Carolina state senator, the Rev. Clementa Pinckney, one of 9 slain at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC.
I’ve been nominated by Geralyn of Where My Feet Are to take part in the 3 days, 3 quotes challenge. This is my first ever nomination for anything ‘blog’ related, so I’m tickled pink to participate. And also sobered by its timing. Thank you Geralyn.
The rules of the challenge are:
1) Thank the person who nominated you.
2) Post a quote each day for 3 days.
3) Each day nominate 3 new bloggers to take part.
My nominees are:
Anna
L.Marie
Jayne
(Hope you can participate but no worries if you can’t)
T L
&
L B
6/17/78
Yep, today’s the day: 37 years since saying our vows atop Flagstaff Mountain…and a life together as varied as those Rocky Mountains themselves –
Paths of uphill scree, steep descent, craggy gorges, magnificent vistas, timberline breath-taking peaks, peaceful breezes through the ‘Quakies’, violent storms, just as quickly turn into meadowlands for mellow musings –
Hard trails, easy climbs, high flying hopes matching mile high views, seriously focused hiking through outcroppings of tortuous beauty, learning the landscape –
Getting our mountain legs together as One.
Our engagement photo, Fall 1977
HAPPY (GRAND)MOTHER’S DAY
(Welcome Home: A Tiny House, Huge Purpose)
LA, the City of Angels…
…at least one angel, shown here caring for his neighbor…
A short while ago, I reread this classic novel. It’s one of the greats. What surprised me this time around was that amidst the storyline and lyrical prose, its message speaks to the heart of what I’ve been presenting within my blog series, Giving Voice.
Very timely as the quotes I’ve pulled from within its pages read better than anything I could attempt to pen.
Meant to be read as a single ‘blog post’ the following quotes are from “A Tree Grows In Brooklyn” by Betty Smith.
Since her father’s death, Francie had stopped writing about birds and trees and My Impressions. Because she missed him so, she had taken to writing little stories about him. She tried to show that, in spite of his shortcomings, he had been a good father and a kindly man. She had written three such stories which were marked ‘C’ instead of the usual ‘A.’ The fourth came back with a line telling her to remain after school… Continue reading
Observe the fine crumb of this loaf. The inviting chew of its crust. Such a gorgeously perfect specimen of my ‘true sourdough’ … or is it?
All is not as it seems … my ‘true sourdough’ bread
The aroma emitted during its time of baking signal salivary glands to sweat in anticipation of a heavenly tasting loaf … or is it?
Finally ready for slicing, the crunch of the knife sounds divine. The slithering of slathered butter slides into warm nooks and crannies of perfectly baked bread … or is it?
Raising the staff-of-life slice to consume, first bite is a bit salty.
Could it be a ‘salt pocket’ … some vestige of incomplete integration of all dry ingredients before adding to wet ingredients? Continue reading
I caught this re-broadcast segment on 60 minutes last night after returning from our 4015-plus mile road trip to visit Dad and be with Family. Because Dad fought in WWII, I offer this video in honor of the spirit in which it was fought…because he is my dad, I offer it in honor of what it means to be Family.
(Nicholas Winton and the Power of Good)
Thought I’d spice this up a bit with some of my good ole Italian…besides, a picture is worth a thousand words, so if there’s any question of what that title means, just take a gander at this:
Partial view of quilt back with label signed and dated
Yep, Coffee Beans Means Love to Me is no longer a WIP, but a completed project.
Last seen on the table ready to be basted a few posts ago, I experimented with using large quilter safety pins. In general, I liked the way they held the 3-layered sandwich together while I machine quilted. However, the holes they left in the fabric after being removed left me wondering why I didn’t just do it the way I’ve always done it.
Basting together pieces of (he)art*
Live and learn.
Perfectionist that I am, I feared I’d wrecked the whole thing. Then I remembered: part of our between homes experience was embracing the ‘strange life path’ He had for us. So what’s a few microscopic pin pricks?
Still living. Still learning.
Finishing Coffee Beans has been freeing. A sort-of final transition stage where our between homes past has been pieced together into something beautiful to be seen in the ‘now’ as a reminder while we proceed into the ‘next’…
The road between homes has ended for now, but the creative journey has not.
*creative confluence: Coffee Beans Means Love to Me (2014), my NaNo Novel, ‘The Woman Who Didn’t Belong’ (2013), my hand scored original arrangement of ‘Mo Giolla Mear’ written while I was ‘Swimming with Swans’ in IN (2010), favorite guitar strings and an old photo of me with an anonymous horse in Montana during Spring Break (circa 1977).
from- Swimming with Swans: vignettes of our three year journey between homes
November 2011 (Fountain Hills, AZ)
During my daily walks along local paths in town and in the surrounding desert area, I’ve noticed Saguaro Cacti with large dark brown “bite” patches along their base up to and including places way high above my head. At first I thought perhaps they were indeed, bites from local fauna that somehow didn’t get hurt eating the spiky spines along with the juicy flesh. Think: deer bites on Aspen tree trunks. But it didn’t seem to fit with the height limit of most animals. So, I got to thinking maybe it was some sort of naturally occurring disease that helps to maintain eco-balance such as the Pine Beetles in the Colorado forests.
I did a bit of Google research and discovered Continue reading
My hubby Terry’s twin (?)
Those baby blues. That attitude.
My future husband, my lover, my BE-ONE…and oh yes, he looks just like James Taylor.
What’s not to like?
Most of our family and friends know the story of how we met. Truncated version: Terry as best friend of my then fiancé convinces said fiancé to dump me and the rest is history. While it certainly was God’s plan for us to be married, it might not have been exactly His way of getting us together.
Over these past years we have celebrated June 17th in various ways. Our first anniversary we did the ‘eat the frozen wedding cake top’ thing in our little square cinder block married student housing house. Living on love in the midst of typical newlywed poverty those first years proved to produce a firm foundation to our new union; along with three children!
Our tenth anniversary we threw a huge backyard party celebrating the fact that we had made it together that long. Sadly, many we knew who married the same year as we did, were no longer together. This was also the year in which we followed the dream and took a leap of faith in starting our own business. Continue reading