It’s Spring Break and my kids are here. Most of them. Kelly will be here in a couple of days. The girls are taller, even since Christmas!
The little artists are busy. A while back I painted the front closet door and the back of a bookcase in chalkboard paint. Best idea I’ve had in a while!
I never went to kindergarten. I don’t recall ever growing a bean seed in a paper cup at school. (We must have lived somewhere else when it was time for that!) We never had a garden when I was growing up. Somehow, though, I’m fascinated with seeds.
The magic is happening right now in my garden!
Tiny leaves on the grape vines. Muscadines. We had our first real crop last fall.
Chives I thought had died, back with gusto.
The scent of rosemary and thyme hanging in the air, still heavy with last night’s rain.
Sometimes I feel stuck between the things I learned as a nurse and the things I’ve learned in the past several years. Even labels are hard.
Conventional. Western. Real.
Alternative. Eastern. Fringe.
For my purposes at the moment, let’s go with conventional and wholistic.
Whatever the labels, each has to do with balance. Conventional medicine looks primarily to numbers. Sodium and potassium levels. Oxygen and carbon dioxide. Intake and output. Wholistic medicine, on the other hand, thinks in terms of energy. Exercise and rest. Activity and meditation. Blocked and unblocked.
Some of you know that during this past month, I’ve been participating in a 30 day writing challenge called Write Yourself Alive. It’s been great. I’ve met new people. Thought of new things. Tried things I hadn’t tried before. Some have worked for me but, seemingly, not so much for others. Some have worked for others but not quite clicked for me. Some I’ve just missed because there’s been a spot of real life and plumbing sprinkled liberally amidst the rarified realms of poetry and reflection.
Hi, Everybody!
It’s me, again. Sarah. I was so excited about the dog show, Mom said I could tell about it this year!
I’ve lived here almost 2 years, now, and this is my second time for the dog show. Mom says there are lots of them but this one is the big one. The Westminster Kennel Club show. It happens right about Valentine’s Day every year. I thought Valentine’s Day was cool because Mom made her fancy new chocolate chip cookies for Dad. Maybe the dog show is even better, though. We had dinner early both nights and all sat on the couch together, which really works for me! (Besides, no chocolate for dogs!)
This poem grew out of the writing prompt for day 9 of the WriteYourselfAlive challenge. Our task was to write a poem and then voice record and post it online. Some of you have seen hints of what came after this on my Facebook posts. Let me assure you that, temporary feelings aside, all is well. (Except for the voice recording of this which I still haven’t convinced myself, or figured out how, to do. We’ll see what happens next!)
It snowed. Just a little.
I know this because the dog felt the need to bark at the snow.
I sewed. Or tried.
On Monday I began my third round of the 30 day writing challenge called WriteYourselfAlive. Each day includes some inspirational quotes and some prompts for writing. On day 3, the prompt suggested writing, with lots of sensory detail, about our favorite writing space, actual or imagined. This is mine. The real deal. An author named Annie Dillard feels that writers should work in basically empty, not very comfortable, completely uninspiring spaces that will not distract them from the truth of what needs saying. I’ve enjoyed some of her work quite a lot but I don’t think I’m going to her place to write!
Bill says I am a cat. (Orange tabby. Nice wide face. Not the pinchy-faced kind. Huge sea green eyes. Twitchy tail.)
