Floating

PHOTO BY TONI FRISSELL
FOR MAGPIE TALES

Floating through life's murky waters praying for a bit of air to breathe.

Magpie Tales

My Dilemma My Whirligig

For Sunday's Whirligig

What sequence of events makes us a writer, not just any writer, but a writer people want to read? This thought circled in my mind late one night as I tried to turn a tale inside out attempting to make it better.

I had kicked off my shoes to reach the comfortable spot where ideas grow as thick as cherries on a spring tree.  It wasn't working.  The screen was white.  No nifty ideas were boiling inside or outside my mind.

The chain of random thoughts failed to inspire any thing I could hang my hat on.

If only there was a scale like the four C's of diamond grades:  cut, carat, clarity and color.  Some scale or system of grading that told me this is good or just give it up.

Beautiful writing will remain, like art, within the eye of the beholder.

My fingers hover over the keys convincing me I cannot write.

The Stray

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

and

Poets United: Poetry Pantry

The stray would not be caught
Though I softly called to him
A fearful look was all I got
As the light quickly grew dim
In this special place of shade
Further ahead the dog goes
Splashing through the glade
Where the crystal water flows
Where soft spring moss lies
Growing loosely on the stone
With Winter's coming green dies
And turns to a winter tone
Helpless returning to home's lawn
Sadly he did not follow but was gone

Reflecting

simply

reflecting

What Makes A Stick Dog Happy?

Word spread quickly...

a storm that left sticks

which one?

the stick stare...which one should I choose?

Lil just laid down with all her sticks

Too many choices!

She decided to forget them 

and

go for a swim.

A Child's Words...Everyday Poetry

I see frog eggs
Love frog eggs
Love frogs
Hear them sing
Let's catch them

They need more water
I'll use the bucket
Where do frogs go at night?
Listen!  I hear one
If we catch them
We eat the legs
But not the eggs
I want more frogs

Last day of school
Snacks were good
No school after tomorrow
I can play

The water got me
It's cold
From the spring?
I can drink it

It splashes
The water tickles
Did you eat the fish?

Gonna work here
You pick up sticks
Got to water the frogs
So they grow
I'm wet
I could eat supper now

For Everyday Poetry at dVerse~Poets Pub

my "sticks" after the storm

Good Fences

The rain sparkled on grass after the storm.

The wind blew hard enough to blow the bark off the post.

The fence still stands.

For Good Fences with TexWisGirl

A Flip Flop Adventure

I begged her, "Take the boots!"

She didn't listen as usual.

I was lost in the water cress.  

Thank goodness she rescued me before I floated to the sea!

I screamed, "Go back!" in my squeaky flip flop voice.

I was buried in quick sand!

The sand was up to her hairy knee.

I had to wait for her to dig me out.

She balanced one legged while holding her camera high.

FINALLY, I was saved from that catastrophe

to be dropped on the edge

when she thought she could jump the sand pit!

Lost again!

I'm not sure I'll survive the summer.

Will someone please tell her to wear boots next time?!

I am flattened with fright!

You Know The Road Is Gone

when the water carries

the colors of the clay

It travels quickly by the garden spring

without leaving color in the spring water

Amazing how the out flowing water of the spring

prevents the muddy water from entering.

The line of muddy versus clear in very obvious where the creeks meet.

Ah, the power of water and the beauty of it amazes me.

Memorial Day

NEVER FORGET!

humming

humming to myself
needle in and out
mending with love
the only way i can

trained in women's ways
needlework is tiresome
alone there's no laughter
dreaming a fool's dream

to leave this bleached land
for a green country
with stepping stones
through clear waters

concentrating
remembering the method
of the matriarch
diving into forced chores

humming to myself
i day dream of sheep
instead of days and olive men
falling like dominoes

For Sunday's Whirligig   With my funny writing or poor eyesight:  I thought "olive" was "dive" and "men" was "mend" so "olive men" was added as an afterthought when I read the words again...dreaming a fool's dream.

All

Still Life, 1907 by John Frederick Peto 

still hanging

umbrella, hat, bag

all that's left

Magpie Tales

OUT

OUT

      of words

     of funds

           of solutions

OUT

        of dreams

    of hope

    of time

OUT

          strike three

                         shoulders to the mat

                  cupboard's bare

OUT

            washed out

             smashed up

            sliced open

OUT

dry

       broken

      empty

  OUT

A list for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

A Friendship Garden

Remember the wonderful Irises I showed a while back?  Those were gifted to me by a blogger friend. I shared a few of mine with her.

Through my years of gardening I have rarely purchased flowers but exchanged seeds, plants and cuttings from people I knew.  It became a custom of mine to name my trees, bushes and flowers after the person who gave them to me.  I have a Grover plum, a Grandma Myrtle rose, Cyndi Irises and the list goes on.  (I do the same with recipes with names like Kenny's Sauerkraut Salad, Bonnie's Spiced Pecans, Uncle Bill's Oatmeal Pie and TexWisGirl's Red-Headed Dumplings) I enjoy remembering the person that gave me a recipe or a plant.

I entered a contest at Two Men and a Little Farm  and won this wonderful apron! Thanks, guys!!

I've noticed 1st Man posts some dream flower beds ever so often because they are planning their landscaping.  They are new to farm life and are jumping in with both feet, as much as they can while they still live in the city.  They have taken us through the home improvements, fun time with wild critters and now their plans for the yard. They have just begun bee keeping.

Well, my old wheels started turning...if my flowers came from friends, why can't theirs?  The internet has made our world very small.  I think we can help plant their garden.  I know many of you who garden save your seeds for the next year.  Why can't we reach out and send Two Men a pack of seeds from our place?  Sounds like a great idea to me!

I'm not bold enough to post their address without asking but stop by and visit them.  Tell them Crazy Gail sent you and you want to share your flowers.  

I am working on a box of live plants for them now.  Wouldn't that be a wonderful thing to see?  A blog friendship garden in Texas?

Toad

Called to

have lunch delivered. 

It was slow.

Sometimes

the world stops spinning and takes a moment to smile.  Tuesday night was one of those times.

This night a sixteen year old young man, a farmer from upstate New York, won The Voice.  His rendition of  "Old Man" gave me chills while he played guitar.

*TraePatton/NBC photo credit

The innocence and God given talent that is Sawyer Fredericks took center stage in a world where pomp and extravagance usually rules.  This night goodness and talent won.

Sawyer, the youngest to win in The Voice history, did so with grace, humility, and love.

It's nice when a good guy wins.  Congratulations, Sawyer!  Sing on!!

Wordless Wednesday Water Garden