Snow Day Two. Can't remember the last time we had two days of snow--Max and I took a walk around the block to investigate. Just about 20 inches fell between yesterday and this morning. Snow squalls are taking turns with the sunshine. Here's hoping we get a thaw this weekend. Right now I am on the look out for a rainbow--perfect climate conditions.
The old maple listens to the conversation on a gray night.
Rain falls like tears after a lover leaves,
Wind whispers secrets,
Hail chatters about the snow coming to visit,
Tires swish home late for dinner,
Heels sound a staccato.
Door opens and closes,
Warmth reaching his branches,
Laughter like a blanket signals good night.
Have a story or an idea? Tell it in 55 words and see the g-man!
Filled to the brim Effervescent Champagne Prosecco Ruby Red Montepulciano d'abruzzo Vino Nobile Chianti Pinot Noir Shiraz Golden Chardonnay Pinot Grigio Reisling each bottle tells a story...........
Vienna was where they met. A warm bar on a cold, rainy night caught them by surprise and drew them to a place neither one expected. Two weeks later, an hour away she blew out the match, waiting, her cigarette glowing and eyes on the door, hating herself for wanting and waiting for him.
Each Tuesday you too can add a chapter to the Magpie's Tales--stop by here!
Alarm sounds. I hit the snooze button, the sun breaking through the trees. Mr. Jackson warm by my side, I roll out of bed, a dog to be fed and work to be done. No time for blog comments, only posts –presentation on Monday. I walk out to my car thinking about coffee and Tuesday.
I look forward to catching up this weekend---until then, if you can write it in 55 words talk to the g-man!
Here's to a great weekend and another day closer to spring!
The boxes were packed save for one room. Filled with books and mementos of the last seventy years, she wouldn’t let the movers in and insisted on packing it herself. Her children hovered as she took the books from the shelves only acknowledging them when she couldn’t reach or a book was too heavy. It took five days and when it was done she allowed her children to pack away the photos, the awards, the bric brac until there was one thing left, a silver trophy engraved with her name and branches. Her son held it up for her to see, “Mother, what about this?”
Her son, an architect and her daughter, a writer; she had raised them, proud of their accomplishments and watched their children grow to be younger versions of her children. At 93, she had long moved past her hope to connect. They lived their lives outside and away from her mainly because she refused to give up her independence. Now as her eyesight failed and her mind moved from year, to day and forgot the tea kettle on the stove, it was decided she be better off in a nursing home. How silly that term—nursing home. Given what she had seen of her friends, there was little to do with nursing and it was certainly not home. Her books would go to the library in town and she would go to the home.
“Perspicacious” she said.
Her son looked at her with concern and her daughter drew near with a shawl for her shoulders.
He moved closer to her, the trophy suddenly more alive in his hands. She took and placed it in her lap, gazing at the branches, remembering when she was twelve years old and after having spelled “perspicacious” feeling the triumph and happiness in her heart as she held the trophy in her hands for the first time. She wore a yellow dress, her hair was braided and tied with matching ribbons. Her mother stood and clapped as she stood on stage holding the trophy.
She smiled and handed it back to her son, “You can put it in the garage sale pile.”
"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan - to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations." Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address, March 4, 1865.
"The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country." Lincoln's Second Annual Message to Congress, December 1, 1862.
"No country upon earth ever had it more in its power to attain these blessings than United America. Wondrously strange, then, and much to be regretted indeed would it be, were we to neglect the means and to depart from the road which Providence has pointed us to so plainly; I cannot believe it will ever come to pass."
George Washington
Let's remember, give thanks for their efforts and continue their good work.
It's been a year since I started this blog all because of conversation I had with a man who stopped by to measure my kitchen for new cabinets. Seven years later we are here still talking, in love, the kitchen finally finished and married three years in August. I feel blessed to have met Mr. Jackson and discovered Jacksonville. His keen wit and big heart has breathed new life into my frenetic work obsessed existence so that I can see inspite of and beyond it. Entering into this once known and scary territory of marriage, I began to think, inspired about new beginnings and to reawaken many of the areas of my being--all of the places I have been, the steps I have taken and the people met. So I began another conversation. You are all a state of mine.
This rose is for you. Thank you for stopping by, for your wisdom and encouragement. I am just beginning and look forward to discovering what lies ahead.
Snowflakes fall quickly making the limbs of evergreens bow. Wind moves and stops, branches swaying. A burst of snow and sound, blackbirds take flight, caw, caw, leaving their hiding place to continue their daily migration. Carried by the wind, wings flapping against a cold sky, they fly; a black and white photo in broad daylight.
Can you say it in 55 words?--give it try and tell the g-man!
Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray; nay, when it strikes on a kindred heart, like the converged light on a mirror, it reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.
Mondays ____! I'll let you fill in the blank---That doesn't mean we have to be filled with negativity and angst. Oh no, we need to get silly. So repeat after me--I (say your name) ...tee hee..Here's to a great week!
a child's laugh
my husband's smile
wind through branches
aspens
olive and evergreens
a conversation
a symphony
a blue sky
my dog's eyes
love
laughing out loud
dancing
waking up
singing
Having travelled throughout the Southwest for the last 17 years, visiting Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico, I have come to love and respect the wisdom and strength of the Native American People.
I feel honored to have walked through such sacred places as Canyon de Chelly, the Hopi Reservation, Chaco Canyon, Canyonlands National Park, Mesa Verde and 3 of the 19 pueblos of New Mexico -Acoma,Nambe and Taos. With each visit and in each place it is possible to see and experience the distinct culture and the spirit of the people who walked the land centuries before us. So it was heartbreaking for me to hear of the tragedy that occurred in Arizona regarding the loss of life during a so-called sweat lodge ceremony in October 2009.
I had just returned from Arizona in September. It had been ten years since my last visit and it was Mr. Jackson's first. As we travelled north from Phoenix to Sedona and on to the Grand Canyon, what struck me was the expanse of the land and the wildness that still existed despite all of the development that had gone on in the last ten years. The struggle to maintain a balance between modern world and to retain the culture of the native peoples of the land is evident and is a common story throughout the Southwest. The agrarian way of life has been all but lost, the language and the culture is for the most part unwritten and left to the telling of stories, handed down from one generation to the next. For this reason, I find the native lands of Arizona, Utah and Colorado while beautiful also sad because the voice, the culture of so many people has been lost or forgotten. New Mexico perhaps because of its 19 pueblos and the co-existence of Spanish, Hispanic and Anglo cultures has a special place for me because the cultures all exist, not necessarily without conflict, so I can hear and feel the heart beat of the people.
I was sent the following statement from Chief Arvol Looking Horse by my friend Mercedes in October and it has sat in my inbox since until I could find the right words:
"As Keeper of our Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe Bundle, I am concerned for the 2 deaths and illnesses of the many people that participated in a sweat lodge in Sedona, Arizona that brought our sacred rite under fire in the news. I would like to clarify that this lodge and many others, are not our ceremonial way of life, because of the way they are being conducted. My prayers go out for their families and loved ones for their loss.
Our ceremonies are about life and healing, from the time this ancient ceremonial rite was given to our people, never has death been a part of our inikag’a (life within) when conducted properly. Today the rite is interpreted as a sweat lodge, it is much more then that. So the term does not fit our real meaning of purification.
Inikag’a is the oldest ceremony brought to us by Wakan Tanka (Great Spirit).
19 generations ago, the Lakota/Dakota/Nakota Oyate (people), were given seven sacred rites of healing by a Spirit Woman Pte San Win (White Buffalo Calf Woman). She brought these rites along with our sacred C’anupa (pipe) to our People, when our ancestors were suffering from a difficult time. It was also brought for the future to help us for much more difficult times to come. They were brought to help us stay connected to who we are as a traditional cultural People. The values of conduct are very strict in any of these ceremonies, because we work with spirit. The way the Creator, Wakan Tanka told us; that if we stay humble and sincere, we will keep that connection with the inyan oyate (the stone people), who we call the Grandfathers, to be able to heal our selves and loved ones. We have a gift of prayer and healing and have to stay humble with our Unc’i Maka (Grandmother Earth) and with one another. The inikag¹a is used in all of the seven sacred rites to prepare and finish the ceremonies, along with the sacred eagle feather. The feather represents the sacred knowledge of our ancestors..." The entire statement continues here.
The following video speaks of the need to retain and protect that which is sacred to each Native American culture.
"Namah’u yo (hear my words)"
Chief Arvol Looking Horse, 19th Generation Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe Bundle.
She hears her number and walks onto the stage. Darkness before her, the music starts. A voice sings in her heart. She flies, her body moving across the boards, the leather of her shoes squeaking as she touches the wood. Skin glistening, her breath comes quickly as she awaits a decision looking into the darkness.
Work! What can I say? This is what I felt like during the day ---a silent roar rumbling behind my smile as I nodded my head--"Sure I can do that!" Then it occurred to me, I needed to take a hike albeit mentally and I was in Chaco, the man in the mountain roaring with me--the blue,blue sky and hot sun melting away the stress. Attitude, Altitude---ah yes, all is possible.
