Childhood Whispers

As I walk into
The clearing
Time slowly rewinds
The rises and falls
In this small plot of
Gently rolling land
Are interrupted by
A quiet stream
And perfectly placed oaks
A perimeter of pines
Provides a freedom
Not easily found
In the outside world
Freedom taken for granted
Until life allows for
Both leaving
And returning-
As I walk down
That familiar road
Still shaded by trees
The whispers
Of many childhoods
Are carried on the breeze-
There you are!
We are so glad to see you again.
Won’t you come and play?

Waiting on the arrival of sweet Emilia has me reflecting on many things- my own childhood, the childhoods of our children, the continuing seasons of parenting, and now becoming a grandparent. I am looking forward to once again seeing life in a new light.

Ok, Emilia. We are all ready to meet you! 💗


Was I looking at the sky?
Or was it a painting?
Soft brushstrokes
Blues, grays, whites
Perfectly placed
Caused a glitch
In my perception-
Even as the radiance
Of the images
My curious smile
Did not want to accept
An answer to my questions-
Sometimes curiosity
For curiosity’s sake
Is more gratifying
Than actually discovering
A logical solution
Was I looking at the sky?
Or was it a painting?
What do you think?

Giddy is not a word I use often. But today, it is the word that chose me. I suppose it fits an about-to-be first-time Gigi. I’ve been doing a countdown. Thirteen days or less! Twelve days or less! Eleven days or less! You get the idea. Probably driving everyone crazy, including the expectant parents.

It’s a different kind of waiting, for obvious reasons, but also because it is brand new. Everything about it. A new life, a new relationship, a new role. And after hearing from the kids today, I could hardly contain my excitement, emotions, and all the above. Probably still a few days out.

While writing this poem yesterday, I thought about childhood and how we sometimes lose wonder and awe in adulthood. Here’s to grandbabies, Gigis, and the gift of curiosity. I am ready to reclaim it!

Simply Sunday

Digging in the Dirt

As we were planting flowers today, my husband reminded me that I used to be a kid. In other words, it was ok to dig in the dirt. He’s right.

When I was a kid, I loved being outside. Playing kickball, basketball, riding my bike, and digging in the dirt. Only after practicing piano and violin, of course.

Well, I may not enjoy it quite as much as when I was a kid. But, the results are worth the sweat and sore muscles. Especially when we are working together.

Painted Maps

Red clay roots
Must run deep
I can’t think of
Any other reason
For your vibrancy
A fiery reddish orange
Creating community
Wherever you grow-
In some instances
Grouped together
In small bouquets
To mark celebrations
Or remembrances
Most of the time
Woven amongst
Blades of green grass
A colorful lace carpet-
Unafraid to share
Your birthplace
A variety of colors
Dances with you
On the breeze-
Pale pinks
Lovely lilacs
Sunwashed yellows-
Welcomed as part
Of your family-

Imagine I was a bird
Gliding overhead
Following painted maps
A witness to your beauty
A witness to the power
Of shared roots across
Uncommon ground

Planting Harmony

Driving down
A two-lane road
Rows and rows
Of sprouting crops
Wrap me in
A soothing hug-
So much has
Is still happening
Above and below
The Earth to ensure
Their survival…and mine
Within their embrace
I see logic planted
In harmonic lines
Mixed with music
My heart beats
In the spaces
Between each
Row of green
My soul sings
Sweet and free
Not wanting
This song to end

Freshly Sliced Strawberries

A regular guest
To find his
Way back
To this place
To keep his
Path hidden
From his host
Which was okay
Reservations were
Not accepted anyway-
The proprietor
Ever ready
To welcome
His friend
However long
The space
Between visits
With freshly
Sliced strawberries
And a kind word-
A life lesson
For other guests
Young and old-
All creatures
No matter
Their stature
Deserve freshly
Sliced strawberries

My sweet dad and his turtle friend, Buddy. ❤️

I’m not sure how many years this turtle visited my parent’s backyard, but it was several. When our family visited, we would go outside to look for Buddy. On one particular occasion, there was some construction involved.

Our youngest son, Ryan, decided Buddy needed his own little resort. Ryan found a plastic container and gathered some rocks. After careful placement, he added water. And believe it or not, Buddy crawled right in!

Today, I am grateful for this sweet photo and memory.

Simply Sunday

Being Me

As quickly as
The sun’s warmth
On the back
Of my hand
With the shadow
Of a passing cloud
So changes my mood-
Sunlight smile
Grateful for
A new day
Knitted brow
Recent loss
Cheery gasp
At the sight of
Deer hopping
Across a field
In the rain
Into the shelter
Of welcoming trees-
Resisting the labeling
Of these sudden shifts
As good or bad
Accepting them
Simply as what is
On this journey
Of learning
To become me


Blue morning clouds
Gently float across
Downward streaming
Sunbeams gracing
Dewey green grass-
I cannot tell if
The Sun’s rays
Are in front
Of the clouds
Or behind them
Or perhaps
Piercing right
Thru their center-
Not for purposes
Of Destruction
On the contrary
For giving guidance
Providing warmth
On their journey
Whether it means
Quickly dissipating
As they transform
Into raindrops
Quenching parched
Ground below
Or peacefully
Long enough
To provide shade
For someone in need

Simply Sunday

Conversation in the Sun

One lonely
To stand up
The weight
Of recent winds
And rain
A tiny speck
In the vastness
Of this world
Has anyone noticed?
Bent so low
Only able to
See my shadow
On the ground
As the sun
Shines above

Hey! Over here!
Bend your ear
My way
It seems you have
Grown weak under
The pressures of
Life in this garden
Don’t lose hope
Rest, recharge

Our roots will
Grow stronger
And you will
Once again
Stand up tall
Your face
Soaking up
The sun’s rays

Reblogging a post from last year. Seemed like a good reminder.💛🌸

The Daffodil and Me

Buried deep
In the earth
By fertile soil
A cycle of
And Warmth
From the unseen
Source above
The tiniest
Of stretches
Baby roots
Begin to reach
And seeking
In chorus
Ready to follow
An unknown path-
The hard work of
Seed to sprout
The patience of
Bud to flower
All while weathering
Wind, rain, and cold
Until the affection
Of the sun
Lifts her face
Toward the sky
Begging the question-
What comes next?

I am enjoying the daffodils this year. Their resistance to our unpredictable weather is amazing. They may droop a little due to an unexpected cold but stand right back up the next sunny day. They may shiver in the wind, but they don’t fall over. Hmmm…I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere. 😉