The road ends, but the journey continues...
I’ll know.
When it feels right.
Deep down in the dark moonlight
filled with desert delight
and
mountain might.
Finding Home.
Where past meets now and future hopes crystallize.
Where how and why are captured
kept as secret gardens – growing spirit – with a side of fruit.
A slice of juicy watermelon slaking my thirst.
I belong.
inspired by Gavin Luke’s piece…thank you poetic muse
Catchy title, eh? It’s been rolling around in my head as a title for a poem since 2015.
The alliteration, associated visuals, meanings and rhythmic feel just lends itself to something more creative than yet another blog post. I mean, speak this out loud: snips, snaps and soggy bottom pie.
Like I said, the perfect set-up for something more to follow than just another blog post. I think four years of this title sitting in a Word file of ideas for poems is long enough. It needs to see the light of day.
Which brings us to this day.
Notice that what follows is not a poem – more like a framework of thoughts prompted by said title. Which is handy as I’ve come against a brick wall lately trying to sort through the myriad current events and life events crowding my mind all screaming for first place in being presented in ‘yet another blog post’.
I’m sure most bloggers squash up against that brick wall every once and awhile. It’s one of the commonalities we bloggers share.
I therefore choose to start with Soggy Bottom Pie as the first smack down of that formidable barricade.
My current favorite PBS series, The Great British Baking Show aka The Great British Bake Off in the UK, is rich in such ‘show stopping’ images. (Yep, pun intended, for those of you familiar with the show).
Can’t you just hear Mary Berry intone, “It mustn’t have a soggy bottom,” as she pokes and prods a contestant’s pastry crust in the pie baking ‘Technical Challenge’?
I like mine with 2 scoops of the creamiest French Vanilla Bean ice cream available!
What’s your favorite soggy bottom pie?
What’s your favorite reason why?
“Contrary to popular belief, I am a snapdragon…” 
Thus began a post I wrote in 2014. Based upon a now defunct ‘What Kind of Flower Are You?’ internet quiz, it was a fun foray into matching flower personalities with us humans. Or should that be human personalities with flowers?
I came out a snapdragon 8 takes in a row – even though I’m more partial to giant purple irises, deep red orange poppies, daisies and milkweed blossoms. I learned that my cousin Marybeth and blogger friend Deborah (christened ‘flower-sister’) both came up snaps in the quiz. We three are also October babies. Connection?
Snappy, flappy, flower laughing lips.
Caring, sharing, dreamy dew-drop drips.
I do relish reading books and finding passages float up from the page past my eyes and into my (he)art. When that happens, I often mark it with a sticky note, reread it later, then if it still resonates, hand copy it into my book of quotes – or snip(pet)s if you will.
I often find lovely prose in young adult novels. Here’s one from Come a Stranger I jotted down 4/15/07.
“Even after everyone had gone home, the house was filled with the good time they’d had, as if it could linger in the air like the voices and music lingered in memory. Mina wrapped the memory up and put it in her heart; there was a quiet gladness, deep like a tree and tall in her.” Cynthia Voigt
A tisket, a snip(pet)
A green and yellow kismet.
~~~
What comes to your mind as this phrase echoes about?
*we’ve since moved from our ‘growing-a-family-and-garden’ home…sigh.
“Luscious Lavender,” poem by Annika Perry
A shortened stem leaning against Ma’s headstone before Dad passed away.
My flower child Michelle (notice unflattened iris stem to right of hat)
~~
On another note – yes a little pun – please enjoy this classic and appropriate to the theme of this post video, Summer in the City by one of my fav groups* back in the day. It brings back memories of summers in Chicago as a kid growing up before we moved to Boulder…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=158&v=U5bUmx-hk-c
A seed knows how to wait.
Most seeds wait for at least a year before starting to grow; a cherry seed can wait for a hundred years with no problem. What exactly each seed is waiting for is known only to that seed…
A seed is alive while it waits.
Every acorn on the ground is just as alive as the three-hundred-year-old oak tree that towers over it…they are both just waiting…the seed is waiting to flourish while the tree is only waiting to die.
When you are in the forest, for every tree that you see, there are at least a hundred trees waiting in the soil, alive and fervently wishing to be.
Each beginning is the end of a waiting.
We are each given exactly one chance to be. Each of us is both impossible and inevitable. Every replete tree was first a seed that waited.
From: Lab Girl, by Hope Jahren
Orange Rose from Ma & Dad’s Garden 2016
“…for my blooms have served a purpose…”
From Just Thinking a collection of “little writings which may produce some little thoughts” here is Colin Chappell reading his poem, Just a Rose.
Note: All proceeds from book sales will be directed to Colin’s daughter who was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2007. She is still fighting, but the treatment programs have taken their toll and she is unable to hold down a paying job for a variety of reasons. She is therefore dependent on benefits from her disability provider…She uses her time to volunteer for non-profit organizations, and has been involved in giving some dignity to the women who are living on the streets in Vancouver’s downtown East-side…She has also written a number of poems, two of which are included in the book!
Here’s a little reminder that not everything in this world is topsy-turvey crazy.
minions support recycling art!
Lately I’ve been remembering quiet times as a kid, with a sharp ear for what actually occupied my time. I’m realizing that my prayers, thoughts and stories were all relayed via inner music. I sang declarations of love to my God, hummed certain discordant intervals when I was scared, and then snappy tunes when happy.
1959 olive green vw bug, just like our own family car (we kept it till ~1977. After that, it spent its last days transporting hazardous materials within a local landfill!)
My homemade cannoli
My heart, O God, is steadfast; I will sing and make music with all my soul.
~ Psalm 108:1
*more on this instrument in another post…suffice it to say, my love of goats has a family history as well!
Contrary to popular belief, I am a snapdragon…
Thus began a post I wrote in September announcing the beginning of my soon to be launched ‘serious series’ now known as Giving Voice.
Several posts and weeks into the series, I just now realized I forgot about my flower promise. Please accept my humble apologies, and notice I have rectified the situation. The snapdragon badge displayed in the sidebar links to a little flower quiz. It’s meant to be a ‘respite’ during the premier presentation of Giving Voice. I think it can also serve as a fun deviation from the severe winter weather most readers have been experiencing this year.
So go on ahead and click on the badge to take the quiz. If you feel so inclined, let me know how you turn out as a flower in the comments. I came out a snapdragon after 8 takes in a row. I’m more partial to giant purple irises, deep red orange poppies, daisies and milkweed blossoms, but hey, a flower by any other name is still a flower! And they do perk up the gloominess of a grey South Carolina day.
Contrary to popular belief, I am a snapdragon.
Let the Daisy Dance begin…
But hey, I love giant purple irises, deep red orange poppies, daisies and…
Fractal Milkweed & beetle
It’s been said that there are two types of people in this world: those that love cilantro and those that hate it. This division of stances on the merits of cilantro has in fact been debated for centuries. The 16th century herbalist John Gerard described it as a ‘very stinking herbe.’ While the Chinese continue to refer to it as the ‘fragrant plant.’
I think the title of this blog post shows which side of the debate I stand on…however I will concede that those who ‘hate’ cilantro might have a biological basis for disliking its taste. Continue reading
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