Favorite Questions

What is your favorite color? Perhaps the most asked question of childhood.

You meet a new friend on the playground. What is your favorite color? Drawing a picture in art. What is your favorite color?

My answer is blue. I’m not sure it has always been blue. It seems I remember short periods of loving pink and purple. But now, it is blue.

A beautiful blue sky. My dad’s blue eyes. Waters flowing through lakes, rivers, streams. And of course, the ocean.

The varieties in shades of blue amaze me. I was reminded why on a recent drive down the Pacific Coast Highway.

Looking out over ocean views, I could see the color-changing lines in the water. A perfect separation, as if someone had painted one section then the next. And those blues continued as far as the eye could see, until finally meeting the blues of the sky.

Yes, blue is my favorite color. What is yours? 💙

Lingering on a Corner

Imagining
Rolling hills
Once covered
In grass and dirt
Graced
With trees
And fields
As far as
One could see
Now paved
Rolling hills
City streets
Perfectly lined
With building
After building
Architectures
New and old
Juxtaposed
To create
An endless
Visual puzzle
Architectures
As varied
As the languages
I hear while
Waiting in a line
For breakfast
City of diversity
In every sense
I’m captivated
And caught
Between
Wonder
And Grief
Marveling at
All that surrounds
While walking
Down sidewalks
So many call home

Two Poems

Elbows and Knees

I cried at the sight
Of you frail
Unaware of
My presence-
Chose to remember
Different images
On that day-
Tall and lanky
Uncanny ability
To sit comfortably
On your haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
My college senior
Piano recital
Me in my black dress
You in your blue
Cotton shirt and pants
Both beaming-
Five years later
Christmastime
My newborn son
Sleeping in your arms-
After you were gone
I saw your reflection
As my son sat
On his haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
Pictures of you
Held dear,
Grandpa

Workshirt

The morning
Is dark blue
The kind of blue
That almost
Looks black
But once
The sun rises
Turns to cerulean-
As the day
Progresses
The sky shifts
Until night washes
Over the work
Of the day
Bringing rest
To the Earth-
And rest to you
Handsome you
Strong you
Wearing your
Favorite blue shirt
Faded with time
As the dirt
And sweat
From a lifetime
Of hard work
Was washed away

I wrote the first poem specifically about my Grandpa Crow. He was a sweet man. Hardworking and loved to fish. The second could describe many different people from my growing up years. Maybe you can relate. 😊❤️

Visit to a Cemetery

I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Shaded by
Lovely birch
On a rolling
Green slope
Overseen by
A church
Painted white
Filled with
History on
Both sides
Of glass panes-
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Cradling remains
Of those gone
From this earth
Centuries ago
Memories
Carved
In marble
Beloved
Daughter, wife, mother
Honored
Son, husband, father
I stood
At the grave
Of a poet
My heart touched
By remembrances
Of persons
I have never met

Simply Sunday

Days

Enjoying
Art and
Nature
Exploring
Lessons
Offered
By history-
Our own
Others-
Reminiscing
Our combined
Years of living
In only seven
Of these
Precious
Allotments
Of time
Each holding
The same
Number
Of hours
Each passing
Too quickly

Simply Sunday

Dirt On My Hands

I am the first to admit I can be a little prim and proper regarding dirt and sweat. I have fun memories of playing in the mud as a kid. Didn’t bother me then.

Yesterday, I suggested we go by flowers to plant in our front bed. My husband agreed. But guess what? They don’t transplant themselves.

My job was taking the plants out of the pots, breaking up the soil, and carefully placing them in their new home. My hands got dirty. Black, rich soil even managed to get under my fingernails.

Before you pat me on the back, this was a short project. Only a little dirt and sweat. 😉 The results? Definitely worth getting a little dirt on my hands.

Simply Sunday

I decided to try something different this weekend-Simply Sunday. The idea is to show one subject using few words and a variety of forms. Keeping it short and sweet! Enjoy! 💛

Daffodils

Lovely yellow blooms
Watercolor memories
Brighter in person

Wye Mountain Daffodil Festival~Bigelow, Arkansas
Kelley Morris, Piano

Old Friends

The rain stopped
Some drops lingered
In the rich soil
Beneath the tree-
Resting after the
Long journey
On the tip
Of a pine needle,
One drop called out
Or perhaps, up
To its dear friend,
Sunshine

It’s your turn!
I’m waiting!
Send your rays
My way-So that
We may have
A moment of fun
Can’t you see?
We belong together
Simply shine your
Light on me
And watch the branch
Begin to glisten

The sun obliged
Sending its rays
To pierce the clouds
And touch the Raindrop
The two old friends
Danced and played
While the branch
Glistened and smiled
Soon, each went their way
But neither said goodbye
Knowing they would
Meet again another day

The Way I Saw It

The past few mornings have been rainy. It’s difficult to wake up and get moving when the sky is so gray. But yesterday morning, though rain still fell, had a different appearance.

Looking outside, I noticed the sky looked strange. The view out the back door was still mostly gray, but with an odd hint of pink. Looking out the front window showed the sun trying to shine through the rain. My first thought-I bet there is a rainbow.

So, I walked outside, and sure enough, there it was, a beautiful rainbow, the full arch, from one corner of the sky to the next. Little drops of rain fell on me as I took in its beauty. And then, of course, I had to snap a few pictures.

My eyes saw each color of the rainbow. Clear and bright. But when I looked at my photo, something was wrong. Still beautiful, but the colors seemed muted. Not what my mind remembered from just a few moments earlier.

I immediately began to edit my photo. Don’t you love those filters? But this took a lot of adjustments. I played with light, contrast, shadow, etc. Finally, I had a picture that represented what I had witnessed.

Why was it so important for me to change the original picture?
Seeing that rainbow brought a moment of beauty and peace during difficult days. And by sharing my photo, I hoped to share that experience. Maybe someone else needed that same kind of moment.

Which photo best represents what I actually saw? In my mind, it is the second. But logically, I know it is probably something in between the two. Maybe the second one is more representative of how I felt. Either way, that’s the way I saw it. And I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere… 🙂

No Pictures

I love pictures. I have loved them since I was a little girl.
My Grandma Mahar had a round metal container with a tight-fitting lid. I believe it was ivory-colored with gold stripes. But more importantly, it was full of photographs.

I would sit at her dining room table with this treasure box, take off the lid, and spread out the pictures. There were old snapshots, mostly black and white. There were also old school photos of my mom and her siblings.

Thumbing through the photos was like taking a trip back in time. Seeing the old cars, the clothes they wore-reading the notes written on the backs. Thinking about it now makes me smile. I can still see the container and some of the photos in my memory.

My love of pictures readily transferred to adult life, particularly when I became a mom. I know there are times my kids have rolled their eyes upon hearing once again, “Hey guys, we need to take a picture!” Of course, my next line made them smile. “Act like you like each other.”

This past weekend was our oldest son’s wedding. They had prepared a couple of decorative signs to greet guests as they entered the venue. One politely announced that the ceremony was to be “unplugged.” The idea was for guests to put away their phones and just be present in the celebration. So that’s what we did-no photos.

I started thinking about that fact this morning. And even though I love looking at and taking photos, I’m so glad I was “unplugged” for their ceremony. What a joy to be in the moment. Listening as they repeated their vows. Watching them smile and giggle, so happy to be starting their life together.

I will be anxiously awaiting the professional photos from the wedding. I’m even thinking about starting my own container of photographs. Who knows, maybe someone else would enjoy spreading pictures all over the dining room table with me. I can always hope. 😉

Imagine this lid on a deeper tin. That’s what held my Grandma’s treasures. ❤