Imperfect Angel

I realize that Fall has just started but I'd like to share this winter poem. I'm sure that you can relate if you've ever lived or visited "snow country." Enjoy!

Imperfect Angel

In the Snow

From my upstairs bedroom window

on this moonlit December night

I look down upon the snow

at a quite unusual sight.

Carefully sculpted snow angels

line the hillside down below.

There's one after another—

quite the perfect little row.

But something is different

about that last one over there.

It isn't quite as perfect

as far as snow angels fair.

I ponder the possibilities

and say, "How can this be?

Aren't angels always flawless?"

Most people would agree.

Their lines are quite elegant,

 not a wing is out of place,

each gown's the right slant

and in very good taste.

That one is unlike the others.

It's messy. . . to say the least.

But for children's sake, I'd rather,

this imperfect angel bequeath.

Perfect's not what it's made to be

 with expectations above and beyond.

So, sweet children, I hope you'll see

it's important to just have fun.

As I gaze out the frosty window pane

at the wintery display cast in blue,

I glimpse something along the lane,

a dog slowly passing through.

It wanders upon the row of angels,

stops, sniffs. . . and wouldn't you know?

It was man's best friend who made that 

"Imperfect Angel" in the snow.

© 2010 K.S.D.

I Like Grasshoppers

Between spoonfuls of gluten-free Os, banana, pumpkin seeds and fat-free milk, I pondered. I gave thought to a number of things: the weather, the people I love, the state of the world, the Roto-Rooter guy that will be arriving at any moment. But I was mostly thinking about why I like grasshoppers. They are, after all, destructive little creatures with oversized heads, oddly shaped bodies, and crookity crooked legs. And then there's the sensation of having one attached to your arm. Have you ever had one use you as a landing strip? Weird!

As you see, I spent a bit of time thinking about grasshoppers this morning. I wanted to know why I like them—despite their short-comings (my classification). I decided it had something to do with a belief that I had as a child. Something that was told to me while I was still in the formative years of my existence. That was that grasshoppers are tobacco users, that they stash a wad somewhere inside that big ole head of theirs, and chew and spit just like people do. Can you imagine? Groups of grasshoppers casually lounging about, spitting tobacco juice in itty bitty coffee cans? No? Well...okay. I guess I better get busy.

 

"A Lady Always Knows When To Leave"

Welcome fall. Farewell hummingbirds. The pair that have been feeding here all
summer must now be on their way to South America. They made an appearance this
past weekend but they are nowhere in sight. I'm certainly going to miss the flurry
of activity outside my window at breakfast time. Safe travels!

Oil and Water... and Lu

"Rotten Banana" was the intended title, and subject, for this blog post. But, as you see, there are no rotten bananas here. Just a very curious cat named Lu and a painting of faceless dolls.

I created this watercolor years ago while earning my commercial art degree. I'd used oils prior to that but, as I discovered, there are few similarities between the two. Each have unique qualities that I love. 

This painting is not exceptional by any means but I feel that it has its purpose—other than being a required assignment in school. Like they say, "there's a story in there somewhere." Maybe I can tie the painting to the Lock and Key bit from a couple months ago.

Gotta love Thursdays!

Elyse in the corn.                    Photo by Eric Schwartz

Reflections by Elyse

My seven year old granddaughter said that her favorite day of the week is Thursday and that she likes it to rain and storm on that day.

When I asked her why Thursday was her favorite day, she said she didn't know why. And when asked why she likes it to storm on Thursdays, she said she likes to watch the sprinkles and then see the rain get harder and then go outside and open her mouth and catch the raindrops in her mouth.

Elyse then likes to go in the house and have a "peaceful day." She said she likes things peaceful.

In regards to parenting: I once heard someone say, "We aren't raising children, we're raising adults." That's an interesting perspective, certainly one worthy of discussion. But, for the moment, I've better things to do—like go outside and catch a few raindrops with my tongue.

The Un-Scary Need Not Apply

I was entertained by this sign as I made my way to Madison earlier this
week. It brought back memories of my daughter who lives in Oregon. 

This sign caught my attention as I drove into Madison this week. It reminded me of a phone call I received from one of my daughters a few years back. I remember feeling uncertain about how I should respond because, although she was clearly making a statement, I sensed by the tone of her voice, that she also wanted answers.

         ---------------------

Shortly after graduating from high school, our youngest daughter, Jessie, moved to Portland, Oregon. Her dad and I stoically stood by as she loaded her belongings onto a train and headed west.

This was grade school. Jessie is the smiling witch
with the black hat and gown. (can enlarge)

Several months later, the phone rang. It was Jessie. "Mom! I'm not scary!" I heard her say. "Oh, really?" I wondered why she felt the need to be scary.

Jessie went on to explain that she had been hired to help build a haunted house in downtown Portland. The job was short-term but perfect for her. Once it was complete, organizers hired staff to work inside the newly created haunt. Jessie was one of them. As I found out, her career as a ghoul was short-lived because she didn't have enough ghoul-like traits to do the job sufficiently. In other words, she wasn't scary.

As attendees filed through the Halloween house of horrors, Jessie, in her bedizened garb and ghoulie ghoul makeup gingerly leaped from the darkness, arms extended overhead, fingers curled, face and hands contorted. As she did so, she shouted, "Boo!" in her loudest, meanest, scariest voice. Instead of deafening screams and looks of sheer terror, she was greeted with blank stares. This happened repeatedly that evening. If I remember correctly, she resigned from the position the very next day.

Now for a little update: Not long after working at the haunted house, Jessie started school and earned a bachelor's degree in Apparel Design. She will be launching her clothing line this fall. She is currently on her way to NYC to show her designs at the 2011 (capsule) Trade Show. I am very proud of her. She accomplished a lot in a very short period of time. Pure determination (and natural talent) is what got her where she is today. See her new collection at Saint Elyns.

Picturesque Pods

What do I love about Fall? Nearly everything: cornstalks crackling in the wind, hues of yellow and orange, cool breezes, cozy sweaters, hot apple cider, tall leather boots, chili, the crunching of leaves during a walk in the woods, pumpkins, nut-gathering squirrels, caramel apples, corn mazes, winter squash, goosebumps, scarecrows, end of garden chow chow, the smell of drying leaves, life in the slower lane, fall harvest, milkweed pod.

Milkweed, and a number of not so recognizable plants, grow on the edge of the field behind my house. These photos were taken in 2009. The lighting conditions enhanced the unique characteristics of each milkweed pod.

Yuns and Y'alls Aplenty

Fried okra, baking powder biscuits, milk gravy, and fresh ground pork sausage seasoned with sage. Running and playing in open fields, crawdaddy fishing in a nearby creek, walks along dusty gravel roads, time spent with sisters, brothers, cousins. And there were grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles—and plenty of "yuns" and "y'alls" to go around. Childhood memories. We lived in the north but our style was distinctly southern.

My Aunt Bonnie, who passed away last week, was an important part of these memories. She and my Uncle Ted, and their family, lived within miles of us. We celebrated birthdays, holidays and other occasions together, including putting up corn for winter. (I remember well how the women folk formed an assembly line to prepare the corn for the freezer.)

A short and slightly plump lady with an unmistakeable southern drawl, Aunt Bonnie was a presence throughout my childhood. She was a devoted, sincere lady who loved her family dearly.

She and my Uncle Ted, who died unexpectedly earlier this year, were a team. When she needed something done, he was the willing assistant—usually with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. I will have fond memories of them always.

Uncle Vernon

December 8, 1924 — August 24, 2011

We recently lost a special member of the family. His name was Vernon and he was one of three boys born to Arthur and Ester.

Uncle Vernon was a humble, soft-spoken, kind man. Family was very important to him and he clearly recalled details about each and every one — things long forgotten by others. He had many stories to share about growing up and life on the farm.

Vernon worked in a factory for seventeen years, becoming a door-to-door salesman after the business closed. For years he knocked on doors peddling his wares. The McNess products he sold must have been in demand because he acquired many loyal customers. We wondered how a shy man like Vernon could do a job that even the bravest of souls shied away from.

Household items were not the only products Vernon sold door-to-door. For years he sold hair products to women in the African American community. I can only imagine what it must have been like, as an African American woman, to have this tall, red-haired, fair-skinned, freckle-faced man knocking on the door to sell you picks and hair solutions. It says a lot about Vernon's gentle nature. He was accepted by everyone because of the sincerity and kindness he displayed.

We love you, Uncle Vernon.

Vernon as a young child.

He farmed for several years.

Vernon had one son and daughter. He is shown here with
his grandson Nathaniel, who is now 17 years old.